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sweetlemontart · 10 months ago

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nocturnal | choi seungcheol [M]

summary ⇾ tipsy from after-work drinks, seungcheol returns home on friday night to find you asleep. he tries not to look, but his wandering eyes keep drifting over to your slumbering figure, and he knows rest won’t come easy when you seem to be tempting him even in your sleep. seungcheol could resolve his little predicament all by himself, but shouldn’t you be the one to take responsibility for making him feel this way?

PAIRING // choi seungcheol x fem!reader

GENRE // some fluff, mostly smut, pwp (i mean it, I'm warning u), sub!reader, dom!seungcheol, fiancé!seungcheol

WARNING // 18+, explicit sexual content, established relationship, unprotected sex, somnophilia, consensual voyeurism, male masturbation, slight size kink, oral (m&f receiving), creampie, fingering (f receiving), edging, choking, thigh riding, talks about having kids, cheol is a teasing little sh*t

WORD COUNT // 13k

AUTHOR’S NOTE // 13k of just smut lol btw have yall seen GDA cheol? the all black fit and rolled up sleeves and the dark hair... moving on, happy new year to everyone who reads this, may 2024 bring us endless happiness and love ( ˊᵕˋ )♡.°⑅ do reblog if u enjoy this fic. I'm working on a wonwoo fic that has ten times more plot than this so pls stay tuned for that :) song rec is rock your body - clara la san

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You're already in bed when your fiancé returns home from work, drifting in and out of sleep, wanting to wait for him to come home but unable to fight your weariness. Friday is always the busiest day at work, and the idea of being able to stay in bed until noon the next day only makes you want to wait up for him even more.

Seungcheol must think you're already asleep. It's reasonable that he thinks that way—you're a light sleeper and often go to bed early. He tries his best to stay quiet as he moves around. You had barely heard him enter the apartment, and only faint thuds of his sock-clad feet can be heard as he meanders around the house.

When Seungcheol enters the bedroom, he's a little sceptical as to why the bedside lamp is still on, casting a dim, yellow glow across the room. His eyes search for you, finding you cocooned under the covers, lying on your left side with your back turned to him. He knows you can't sleep with any light on, but he deduces you must've been waiting for him and inevitably succumbed to sleep.

Seungcheol moves toward the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom. He's slightly tipsy from downing a few beers with his co-workers after work. He feels light on his feet, and his once-gelled hair is no longer slicked back, some unruly strands now falling over his forehead. He hears you shift on the bed as he loosens his tie, but he doesn't think much of it, proceeding to unbutton his dress shirt.

Two buttons in, he hears movement from the bed again, and this time, he looks in your direction in the mirror, taken aback when his eyes meet your bleary ones. He turns his head to look at you, his mouth curling into a lazy smile. "I thought you were asleep," he says in a low voice.

You say nothing, propping your elbow up on your pillow and leaning your head against it to get a better look at your fiancé. He turns back to the mirror, and you notice the rosy tint colouring his cheeks. You sigh dreamily, admiring him from the bed. Seungcheol is tall—that much is obvious—but those dress pants do his legs wonder.

When he reaches for his belt, you can't help but stare. His dress shirt is still tucked into the pants, the first few buttons open, baring the soft skin of his chest. Your eyes wander, and you think Seungcheol does notice. The man does not miss a thing when it comes to you.

The sound of his belt unbuckling makes your legs curl closer to your body, and Seungcheol definitely notices this time because he stops his movement, fingers hovering over the button of his pants. When he turns on his heels, your eyes finally snap back up to look at his face. He doesn't say anything as he approaches, coming to a stop beside the bed, towering over you.

He reaches one hand out to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. It's a feathery touch, and your eyes naturally flutter close, head tilting into his touch just the slightest. Gentle fingers thread into your hair, brushing it back and tucking loose strands behind your ear.

Your eyes snap open when you feel his thumb against your bottom lip. At first, it's harmless, and he's only dragging the pad of his thumb across your lip, but then he starts to dip further into your mouth. He lets out a soft sigh when your lips part, allowing his thumb to rest against your tongue. Then, your mouth wraps around his finger, suckling at it softly, and his breath catches in his throat when he feels just how warm and wet your mouth is.

It's over before you want it to be. Seungcheol smiles a little too innocently, removing his thumb from your mouth and patting your cheek. "Get some rest, baby. I'm going to take a quick shower."

You don't stop him as he walks into the en suite bathroom, surprised that he hadn't immediately taken his clothes off and taken you right then and there. Seungcheol's self-control has always been immaculate when it comes to sex, but refusing to do it on a Friday night when neither he nor you have work tomorrow morning? You chalk it up to his exhaustion after working overtime, so you lie back in bed, eyes refusing to close even though your body is screaming at you to rest.

Seungcheol emerges from the bathroom not even a minute later, shirtless, belt discarded, pants unbuttoned. He takes off his silver Rolex, carefully setting it down on the bedside table near his side of the bed—as always. To your disappointment, he doesn't spare you even a glance before walking back into the bathroom.

You find yourself sighing, anticipating what seems to be an uneventful Friday night. You and Seungcheol usually spend Friday nights together— going out for dinner or unwinding with a movie on the couch. But if your lover is too tired to do anything other than sleep, you understand. You also have days when you feel too drained to do anything other than lie in bed and mull over your thoughts. Besides, it isn't like you don't have the entire weekend to make up for it—hell, you have your whole life to make up for it.

Seungcheol leaves the bathroom door open behind him. It's not strange for either of you to keep the bathroom door open while showering. Privacy isn't much of an issue for both of you.

You fall back asleep relatively quickly, not thinking much about the fact that the shower hasn't started running even though Seungcheol has been in the bathroom for at least five minutes.

You awaken again soon enough to the sound of soft sighs and some rustling from the direction of the couch placed near the bedroom door. At first, you try to ignore it, thinking Seungcheol might just be getting himself ready for bed. Then another sigh follows, and you peek an eye open to take a quick look. What you think will be a quick look turns into so much more.

Your beloved fiancé sits with his legs spread on the white couch, still shirtless and wearing his dress pants. This time, however, his boxer has been pushed down just slightly, and he's lazily stroking his cock in his hand, his other arm splayed across the backrest of the couch. His skin is pale and milky, glowing in the golden light. He smiles when you prop yourself on your elbow, blinking blearily as if trying to comprehend what you are currently seeing.

He's rock hard, shaft glistening with pre-cum. You and Seungcheol have always loved trying new things in bed, pushing yourself to the limit, testing just how far each of you will go before you tap out. But this... the thought that Seungcheol was touching himself to the sight of you asleep—it stirs something in you. You've always loved waking up with Seungcheol's cock inside you. The drag of his cock feels especially good when you're still drowsy, trying to pull yourself together but failing each time because your lover just feels so good inside you. But this is different.

Seungcheol's hand speeds up, and the way he groans makes you lose your train of thought. The silver ring sits snugly on his little finger—the coolness of it must feel so good on his cock. You don't break eye contact, shifting onto your stomach and folding your arms underneath your head as you watch him. You wouldn't be able to look away even if you wanted to.

Seungcheol grits his jaw when he sees you smile. It's the last thing he expects. You look so sweet, and he starts to wonder about the sight he would be met with if he were to pull the covers away from your body. Are you wearing the sheer nightgown he always loves seeing on you? Or maybe you're wearing nothing, and he'd be able to spread your legs apart and slip himself right into the warmth of your needy cunt.

Seungcheol straightens his posture just a little, cock twitching in his hold at the sight of your smile. You look so at ease, enjoying this more than he had anticipated. He was half expecting to get an earful from you, thinking you would probably scold him for his bizarre behaviour, but this, he wasn't expecting at all, and that makes his cock harden, balls tightening almost painfully. Seungcheol feels as though he's about to burst from the inside. Your smile—as if you're taunting him, teasing him.

"Fuck, fuck..." he breathes out, head tilting back, eyes closing, savouring the feeling of his rough, calloused hand moving up and down his cock. The fact that you're most likely still watching him makes his abs tense up, trying to hold back from finishing too fast. It has barely been ten minutes since he started, but the sight of your smile feels like it's burned into the back of his eyelids. It makes his brain go haywire.

He risks another look at you and immediately realises he has made a grave mistake. Instantly, he's cumming hard, unable to hold himself back because you're looking at him so prettily—slow blinks and a sleepy smile. A loud groan rips from Seungcheol's chest, fist wrapped around the tip of his cock, stroking it just barely, trying to milk everything out. His cum trickles down his knuckles, down his shaft.

The intensity of your gaze, fixed squarely on his leaking cock, spurs Seungcheol to stand up. He rids himself off his dress pants and boxers, using the latter to wipe off most of his release before walking closer to you. Seungcheol stops on the side of the bed, stroking his softening cock almost languidly. He doesn't have to say anything, and you're already sitting up against the headboard, reaching a hand to grab at his wrist to pull him even closer. Seungcheol perches one knee on the bed, watching as you lick your lips at the sight of his cum. You're still fucking smiling, and he feels himself growing hard again.

"Enjoyed that, did we?" he says quietly, trying not to break the peace and quiet too much in case you feel like going back to sleep after his little 'show'.

"Very much," you reply, voice slightly scratchy from sleep.

Seungcheol is so thick everywhere, and it makes you dizzy. Your eyes roam over his chest, bulky arms, and firm thighs. Your lover has always been strong and filled in all the right places, and you love it. He has no problem picking you up, tossing you around, manhandling you into different positions. He doesn't struggle with keeping you steady when he's fucking you against the wall or any other surface.

You brush aside his hand from his cock, tongue lolling out to lick at the excess cum on his knuckles, cleaning it off his skin. The salty, bitter taste floods your tongue, and you immediately take him into your mouth. Seungcheol hisses when you do, loving the way your mouth envelopes him. You don't waste any time trying to take all of him in, mouth stretching almost painfully around the heavy girth that's starting to harden again, your thighs pressing together to get some friction. You must look pitiful to Seungcheol, trying to fit all of him in your mouth in your sleepy state, hips shifting slightly on the bed, trying to get some relief.

Breathing in, you look up—right into his eyes—before moving forward until the tip of your nose presses into his lower stomach. He breathes out a chuckle when you gag, throat constricting around his cock. Your eyes fill with tears, but you don't pull away until you're sputtering and the droplets of tears trickle down your cheeks. Seungcheol's quick to cup your jaw, thumb brushing against the pearling teardrops on your cheek. "Easy, baby... I know you're tired. Don't force it..."

Hearing Seungcheol's instructions, you stick to shallow motions, using your hand to stroke the rest of his length you can't fit in your mouth. Seungcheol's hip jerks forward a little when you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, tracing the veins and circling the tip. Seungcheol mumbles an apology as he weaves a hand through your hair and starts to thrust his hips forward little by little, lost in the feeling of your mouth.

His cock glistens with your spit in the low light, and your eyes fall shut naturally, basking in the quiet noises Seungcheol is making. He doesn't force you to take all of him, pulling his hips back before the tip of his cock can reach your throat. You appreciate his sentiment, even if you feel awake enough to take whatever he gives you.

Your eyes snap open when you feel the cold air against your bare legs. Seungcheol has yanked the blanket away from your body and is now peering down at your exposed form, clad in his grey shirt and a pair of white panties. Your panties are nothing special, but Seungcheol feels his cock twitch in your mouth when he sees the wet patch on the crotch of your underwear.

He can feel the vibration of your moan against his cock when his finger grazes over the damp spot on your panties. He can't resist using the tips of his fingers to rub over your clothed pussy, teasing up and down the slit, watching the way the drenched fabric sticks to your dripping cunt—thoroughly soaked and ruined before he has even done anything to you.

When you pull away from his cock momentarily to take a much-needed breath, Seungcheol immediately leans down to capture your lips with his in a bruising kiss. He swallows all your moans, rolling his tongue over yours, dragging it against your lower lip. He doesn't pull away, even as he tugs the crotch of your panties to the side and starts to circle your clit with his fingers, which makes your legs snap shut, trapping his hand in between.

Seungcheol pulls away from the kiss, glancing down at his trapped hand before looking back at you almost expectedly. "Open," he commands. You don't need to be told twice, immediately parting your legs.

"Good girl..."

Seungcheol prods at your hole with two fingers, slipping both in only halfway. They slide in easily, slick from the wetness seeping out of your pulsing hole and the remnants of precum messily smeared all over his cock as he was jerking himself off.

"You got this wet from watching me? Or were you touching yourself before I got home?" Seungcheol grunts, gazing down at the way your pussy is fluttering around his fingers. The squelching sound is obscene, resounding throughout the bedroom. "Messy little thing..." he mumbles quietly, lost in thought as he lets his fingers dip into you right down to the knuckle.

You gasp, pulling your mouth away from his cock to look up at his face. Seungcheol doesn't meet your eyes, seemingly entranced by the sight of his fingers between your legs. Bending one of your knees, you spread your legs wider. After dating Seungcheol for two years and being engaged for one and a half, you don't feel the need to hide from him nor the embarrassment of presenting yourself to him like you're his to own and use as he pleases. In all honesty, he possesses every part of you—your heart, your soul, every inch of your body. He is yours as much as you are his.

When Seungcheol adds a third finger, he finally looks back at your face, not wanting to miss how your eyebrows furrow and mouth gape open at the tight fit. His fingers are thick—much more so than yours—but his cock is even more so, and he definitely needs to stretch you out to get you ready, or he will risk hurting you. There are occassions when a little bit of pain is most welcome, but tonight, his main objective is to give you pleasure.

With a trembling hand, you reach up to grasp at his cock, stroking him slowly, matching the pace of his fingers as they dip in and out of you. You know you won't be able to use your mouth properly, not when he's touching you so earnestly and looking down at you as though he hasn't ever seen you in such a position in your years of being together.

"You touch yourself before I came home, sweetheart?"

You're quick to shake your head, slumping further down the headboard as he continues to play with your pussy. "No..." you whimper, jolting when he suddenly curls his fingers, tips of his fingers firmly pressing up against the spongy spot inside you that sends a current of pleasure darting up your spine. "I got so wet from watching you, Cheol," you sigh out, hips canting up to match the movement of his hand. "I love watching you..."

Seungcheol hums, grinning down at you, pleased with your response. "Aw, my baby always loves watching me, isn't that right?"

His free hand envelopes the hand around his cock, urging you to keep stroking him. The ring on his middle finger glints in the light—it's the ring you gave him a week after his proposal. It serves as a reminder that no one else but him has the privilege to have you like this. No one else will ever get to touch you, kiss you, make love to you, and fuck you the way he intends to tonight. You're his, forever, and the idea has him grunting out your name breathlessly.

With his hand atop yours, he guides your hand up and down his length at a pace that makes him hiss. Your hand is much smaller than his, fingertips barely meeting around his thick girth. His skin prickles whenever you tighten your hand around him just slightly every time your hand reaches just under the head of his cock, squeezing him just the way you know he likes it.

"Fuck..." he exhales, sweat beading down his temple. "So good, sweetheart..."

"Cheol..."

"Hm? Tell me what's wrong."

You glance down at the hand between your legs, feeling short of breath from watching the way your slick seems to coat Seungcheol's fingers, some staining your thigh, some smeared on the palm of his hand. You suck in a big breath, stomach caving in. When you return your gaze to him, you're surprised to find he's already looking at you, the tip of his pink tongue peeking out to rest against his bottom lip. The way he's looking at you makes you feel sweltering hot.

"My shirt, p-please," you stutter out, feeling suffocated in only one layer of clothing.

Seungcheol immediately understands what you're asking, but he makes no move to take your shirt off. You whine when he suddenly retracts his fingers from your pussy, leaving you feeling so empty. He peels your hand off his cock, leaving you baffled and so goddamn frustrated.

"Cheol, why'd—"

He hushes you, lowering himself onto the end of the bed. He grabs both your thighs, pulling you down from the headboard. His cock nudges against the back of your thigh, so close to where you want him the most.

"Oh, God," you breathlessly pant. "Need you inside me," you tell him, feeling frenzied. You move to pull off your shirt, but he grunts, shaking his head.

"Don't," he orders, using his grip on your thighs to spread your legs wide enough for him to be able to get a good view of your sloppy cunt, all slick and puffy from the onslaught of his fingers. "I like seeing you in my shirt," he says in a faraway voice, distracted by the sight of your pussy, hole clenching around nothing, almost inviting him to dive right in.

You groan, propping yourself up onto your elbows, chest heaving. You lick at your dry lips, sending Seungcheol a pleading look, but he doesn't meet your eyes, too absorbed with the mess in between your legs. "Cheol, baby—"

Without warning, Seungcheol leans down, shoving his face into your pussy, mouth hungrily devouring your heat. You fall back onto the bed with a startled shout, jaw hanging open as you try to comprehend the sudden onslaught of pleasure that threatens to consume you whole. Seungcheol is good with his mouth and familiar enough with your body to know how to bring you close to the edge in only minutes.

He's sucking at your clit noisily, manic with his movements like a starved man getting his first taste of food after days without it. He's greedy and ravenous, offering you no respite—not even a moment to catch your breath.

You try to tell Seungcheol to slow down, to give you even a second to compose yourself, but only garbled moans of his name come out. By now, sleep is the last thing on your mind��only pleasure clouds it. You're trembling under him, helpless against the relentless assault of his mouth.

When Seungcheol groans, the vibration on your most sensitive part makes you choke on air, lowering a hand down to grab the strands of his dark hair. When you try to move away from him, he clutches onto your thighs tighter, tongue teasing at your hole, swirling but never diving in. You're still trying to get away, overwhelmed. He notices this, and he brings both his arms around your thighs, hugging your legs close around his head. There's no room to move—he has you locked in.

"Fuck, please, please, s-slow down! C-Cheol!"

He doesn't, lapping up all your juices, groaning at how your taste coats his tongue and how your smell overtakes his senses. He trusts you to say the safe word if it becomes too much. He also knows that you can take this—he has done far worse things to you before.

The tip of his nose presses against your clit when he delves his tongue into your pussy, earning a rather rough pull of his hair from you. The pain shoots down his spine, making him slump down onto the bed to grind his bare cock on the bed. All of it makes him so light-headed. Your legs are tightening around his head, trapping him, but he doesn't mind, not even if your moans sound muffled this way. He'll get to hear you later when he fucks you silly into the mattress anyway.

Tears brim in your eyes. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, dry from moaning so much. It's almost too much—how he is so ruthless with his mouth and tongue. He doesn't let up once, breathing in and out through his nose, delighted to be suffocated between your plush thighs. It's pure fucking torture, but it feels divine.

"Cheol... C-Close," you whisper, hoping he can hear you.

He doesn't hear you, but he knows you enough by now. He knows the telltale sign of your orgasm approaching, knows how tight you get when you're about to cum, knows how your back arches and your toes curl. He looks at your face and reads your lips, repetitions of his name spilling past it.

Then he's pulling your legs away from the sides of his head, ripping his mouth from your pussy. Your orgasm is brutally stolen from you, and the sheer frustration that surges through you makes you howl out his name. To make it worse, he only chuckles at you, hands rubbing comfortingly at the side of your thighs. The touch should be soothing, but it only leaves you angered.

The sheer audacity of this man—

"You asshole," you spit out with all the venom you can muster, chest rising and falling rapidly. Tears of frustration trickle down your cheeks, and Seungcheol thinks the sight would be so lovely if he hadn't just been devouring you like you were his first meal in months.

"Aw, don't be like that, baby..." he coos sweetly, lips and chin glossy with your juices. He wipes his face with the back of his hand before swiftly grabbing at your soiled panties, pulling them off you and tossing them somewhere in the room. He adjusts your legs, straightening both and letting them dangle over one of his shoulders. Holding his cock in his hand, he strokes it twice and then runs the tip up and down your slit.

"Choi Seungcheol, you're—you..." you trail off, finding yourself drawing a blank, still shocked by how he so meanly robbed you of your orgasm when it had been right at your fingertips. That, combined with how his cock is lightly dipping into your hole, leaves you feeling an untamed emotion, a sensation of chaos where you feel completely out of control, an experience both terrifying and exhilarating.

"Did you just call me Choi Seungcheol? We've been together for years, baby—let's not use full names now," he warns you before he sinks into you in one fell swoop, stuffing you full of every inch of him. There's a brief flash of pain as you try to adjust to the sudden stretch, hands tugging at the bedsheets and eyes rolling back. You hear him chuckle, prompting you to look up at him. You regret it almost immediately because the sight of him makes your hips lift off the bed, a strangled moan leaving you.

Your orgasm crashes into you like a freight train, sudden and jarring. You don't even register it yourself at first, at least not until the overwhelming ecstasy makes you go stiff in Seungcheol's hold, sobbing at the surge of pleasure that has striked you so abruptly. You had not had time to prepare yourself, so you try grounding yourself by grabbing his biceps and clawing at the smooth skin, leaving tender, red marks.

"G-God, oh God, Cheollie," you whine, pinching your eyes shut because everything feels too fucking good, and you're struggling to bring yourself down from this euphoria and anchor yourself in the present.

Seungcheol doesn't realise what's happening right away. He feels the way you clench hard around him, walls squeezing him so tight that he can't help but let out a small groan. He's caught off guard when he feels your nails digging into his arms. You're writhing underneath him—quivering, shaking—and finally, it dawns on him what has just unfolded. You just fucking came, all because he had eased his cock into your warm cunt.

"Oh, baby..." he mutters, snickering quietly to himself. He coaxes you through your orgasm, pressing soft kisses on the side of your thigh. "Shh, good girl, that's it, ride it out for me, darling..." he murmurs against your skin, fighting back the urge to start moving his hips and fucking you through your orgasm. You've never been this sensitive before, and he knows he needs to approach this situation carefully. He doesn't want to overstimulate you too much and too soon, both for your sake and his.

Seungcheol is equally perplexed and impressed at how little it had taken you to cum. All he had to do was slip himself into you, and you were coming undone under him? He feels his cock twitch at the thought. Seungcheol's only a man, and what you did has inflated his ego tenfold. He thinks nothing could ever top this moment, and he doesn't intend to let you live it down.

You're not sure just how long it takes you to collect yourself. A gentle palm smoothes down your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear. The soft voice is murmuring your name, pulling you back down, down, down from your drunken daze.

"I'm sorry," you say, still a little disoriented, gaze unfocused. You see Seungcheol's outline and see his lips moving, but you don't hear anything except the pounding of your heart in your ears. You blink a few times, forcing yourself to adjust and snap out of whatever trance you were momentarily stuck in. "I'm sorry," you repeat after finally regaining your awareness. Your eyes zero in on Seungcheol—you can see him clearly now.

"Darling, believe me, an apology is the last thing I need," he says, slightly relieved that you seem to be returning to your senses now. He carefully sets your legs to the side, leaning down and hovering over you with a leering smile. He has you caged in his arms, looming over you with his broad frame, making you feel small. "All I need—" he begins, nosing at your jaw, breathing in your smell, "—is for you to beg."

You let out a shuddering breath, feeling the tip of his cock nudge at the back of your thigh. Somewhere in the middle of your orgasm, Seungcheol had pulled himself out of your pussy, knowing he would most likely reach his own climax if you kept clamping down on him the way you did.

"Beg?" you echoed back, tilting your head up, giving him more access to litter kisses on your neck.

"Mhm..." He lets his teeth graze over the sensitive skin under your jaw, not biting, just gliding over your pulse point. "Beg me to make you cum again." He ends his sentence with a playful nip on your jaw, loving how you jolt under him in surprise.

His request isn't unusual or odd in any way. Seungcheol has said worse things to you before—things so filthy and obscene it would make a sailor blush. His words carry an unfamiliar weight this time, provoking a shyness in you that you never anticipated would be caused by his words alone.

Warmth begins to creep up your neck, and a lump forms in your throat as something akin to humiliation washes over you. The weight of the situation starts to dawn on you. Seungcheol hadn't even had the chance to move before you were creaming all over him like a bitch in heat. The thought of it makes you want to curl into yourself and hide until morning.

Seungcheol must feel you tensing up because he's immediately pulling away from the crook of your neck, searching your face with his eyes. You avert your eyes to the side, unable to meet his gaze with the wild embarrassment coursing through you.

"What's wrong?" he asks you. "Look at me, baby..."

You sigh, knowing he wouldn't just let this go. Still, as you drag your gaze back to his, you can't help the shameful furrow of your eyebrows.

Seungcheol immediately knows. "Are you... embarrassed?" he asks, the corners of his mouth curling up just slightly.

You groan, pushing at his chest to get him to roll over to his side of the bed. He doesn't resist, moving over to give you enough space to sit up on the bed. "Ugh... 'm not embarrassed," you grumble, tucking your feet under your legs so you're sitting cross-legged on the bed. You feel Seungcheol's hand on your back, palm warm over the shirt you're still wearing as he rubs up and down to soothe you. The gesture only makes you feel even more ashamed, especially since you can hear the quiet laughter he's emitting beside you.

Seungcheol finds it so endearing when you press your hands to your face, hiding yourself from him. His grin widens when you whine into your hands. "What are you so embarrassed for?" he asks, fully knowing the answer but still baffled about how you're so flustered from doing something that he wants to keep stored in his memory until the end of his days. The way your bewildered face had morphed into one of pure ecstasy as your orgasm washed over you is something he wants to be able to replay in his mind again and again.

His cock jerks at the memory, and he swiftly hauls the comforter up to the middle of his torso to cover himself up. He calls out your name softly, but you don't answer him, still hiding yourself with your hands. He lets out a small sigh, knowing he'll have to get your attention some other way.

He soon notices your engagement ring sitting on the bedside table. He knows you avoid wearing it to bed, too worried that it might slip off during the night due to your restless sleeping habits. Then, he comes up with the perfect distraction.

Reaching over, he swiftly grabs the ring from the table before settling back into his previous position. The movement makes you retract your hands from your face, curiously glancing at him.

Seungcheol is smiling, dimples on full display. You resist the urge to poke at the little dents on his cheeks, still feeling bashful about the incident. Then, you notice the small object he's fiddling with in his hand. He's tinkering with your ring, turning it over with his fingers, fitting it around his index, grinning when it doesn't even reach halfway down his digit.

Seungcheol's eyes seem to darken when he returns his gaze back to yours. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he grabs your left hand, fitting the ring on your finger. The way it fits so perfectly around your supple finger evokes something primal within him. How such a small thing can symbolise the commitment and love you both have for each other is such a wonder to him. He knows that no wealth or material possessions could ever encapsulate the depth of affection he holds for you, let alone this piece of jewellery.

"If this is your way of distracting me so I don't think about what happened earlier..."

Seungcheol rolls his eyes playfully. "You're welcome to forget about it all you want, but it's gonna keep playing in my mind like a broken record whether you like it or not."

You release a sigh but refrain from arguing because Seungcheol's words ring sincere, and you're aware he wouldn't acknowledge your embarrassment anyway.

He brings your hand to his mouth, tenderly kissing the ring. The gesture is intimate, even if he feels something entirely more carnal stirring in his stomach. "You're so much smaller than me. Could barely even fit the ring on my finger," he comments, thumbing at the small diamond sitting prettily atop the ring.

Through your blush, you manage a reserved smile. "That's because you're so thick everywhere."

You don't mean the sentence in a weird way, but judging from Seungcheol's booming laughter, he definitely misinterpreted your words. He squeezes your hand once before tugging you down to settle half of your body on top of his. He lets you join him under the covers before cupping your cheek, urging you to look at him.

"I'm thick everywhere, hm?" he teases you, watching how red immediately stains your cheeks.

"Don't be gross," you grumble, letting him trail kisses from your wrist, then up to your palm, and settling on your ring. "What's with you and the ring anyway?" you ask him, finding it sweet but slightly odd that he seems so fixated on it.

"I just had a thought, that's all," he responds, kissing each of your fingertips.

"Go on."

"That one day—" he says, eyes burning into yours heatedly, "—there'll be a wedding band beside this one, and you'll finally be mine forever." He says it airily, as if it's the most natural proclamation, with unwavering certainty in his emotions.

Your heart sings at the declaration. "You're wrong on the last part." You press a fleeting kiss on his mouth, smiling when his eyebrow raises questioningly. "I don't need to be married to you to be yours."

Seungcheol grins, one of his hands skimming down your back, grabbing a handful of your ass over the oversized shirt you're wearing. "You don't know half the things you do to me, do you?"

"I do, actually, and I plan to abuse that power," you jest, beginning to sit up, throwing one leg over your lover's hips to straddle him.

Seungcheol is awestruck at the sight of you on top of him. You, all beautiful and celestial, and all his. He wants to worship you, ruin you, and defile you all at the same time. He's not in the right mind to say anything yet, so he only watches, both hands gliding up and down your thighs, getting higher each time, hiking the fabric of your shirt higher up as well.

He breathes out a sigh when he allows himself to look down. Your pretty pussy is on display, all for him, with remnants of your juices on it and some smeared on your inner thighs. He's about to touch when you grab his wrist, slowly guiding his hand towards where you need him the most. He knows what you're asking of him, and he'd be stupid to deny you your wish.

You gasp when Seungcheol starts running two of his fingers up and down your slit, coating his fingers in the wetness of your cunt, unafraid to get messy. When he sinks both fingers into your hole, you can't help but mewl, one hand grabbing onto his bicep and the other still wrapped around his wrist.

"So wet for me, darling... You're fucking dripping all over my fingers," he says once he finally regains his voice back.

Seungcheol is much stronger than you, and he could easily rip away the hand on your wrist and finger fuck you to oblivion the way he usually does it. This time, however, he lets you guide him, allows you to move your hips to match the rhythm of his movements, and allows you tug his hand closer to reach deeper into you each time he buries the digits. He's still holding the reigns, and he knows that—even if you're the one sitting on top of him—but seeing you try to handle and manage your pleasure all by yourself is so fucking—"Cute."

"Oh... fuck," you breathe out, swallowing hard when Seungcheol folds his free arm and tucks it under his head. He's pretty—bicep bulging and veins crawling up his arms.

He grins when your pussy tightens around his fingers. "Think you could cum like this?"

"Mhmm..." You sit up straighter, balancing yourself with both hands firmly planted on Seungcheol's shoulders. Slowly, you switch to bouncing on his fingers instead of rolling your hips, wincing slightly at the burn of your thighs. Still, you push through the pain, aching for release, pressure in your stomach tightening at the way his fingers seem to reach deeper inside you at the new angle.

"Pretty, pretty girl," Seungcheol mumbles, more to himself than to you, but you still hear it anyway. It makes you light-headed. You love Seungcheol degrading you during sex, but hearing his compliment brings out a visceral reaction in you. It makes you giddy and scatterbrained—as though every coherent thought in your head simply just... wilts away.

You bite your lip at his praise, eyelids drooping slightly, a dreamy look settling over your gaze. Seungcheol thinks this is his favourite look on you. You're not saying anything, but your eyes tell a story of themselves. He can see it—the way you're practically begging for him and his cock.

"Please," you whisper, continuing to fuck yourself on Seungcheol's fingers, moaning wantonly at the mix of pain and pleasure. You're squeezing his shoulders with your hands, nails occasionally digging into his skin whenever the pleasure becomes a little too much. You're so close, and you think Seungcheol knows it as well.

"That's right, baby. Is my pretty girl close?" he asks, shifting slightly underneath you, cock throbbing at the lack of attention, hard as rock at the adorable sight of you bouncing on top of him. He loves the way you look in his shirt, but he thinks he'd much rather see your perky tits jiggling in his face as you ride him instead.

"Mhm, c-close," you profess, hands restless, wandering down to his smooth chest before settling around the base of his neck. You don't squeeze, only letting your hands linger as you chase your high.

Seungcheol chuckles when he notices the delicate grasp of your hands around his neck. He knows you won't put pressure—you're too meek for that. And no, he's not underestimating you. In fact, you might be the only person in the world capable of reducing him to his knees with a glance. But between the two of you, it has always been him who would dare to do such a courageous feat.

Seungcheol does exactly that. He slips his hand from under his head and clasps it around your neck, watching your eyes widen when he applies the slightest pressure onto the sides of your throat. You always cum so much quicker when he has at least one hand around your neck.

Your whole body stiffens at the contact, pussy fluttering wildly around his two digits. "O-Oh, f-fuck, fuck!" You let your head tip to the side, eyes fluttering close as you near your high. Your legs are starting to go numb, but that's the least of your concerns when your climax feels like it's looming right around the corner.

"Attagirl... that's it," Seungcheol drawls, applying more pressure when he feels your pussy squeezing tight around him. At this point, you must be growing dizzy from the lack of air and blood. He's careful not to apply any more force than he currently is. "What a pretty necklace," he taunts, awed by how perfectly his hand wraps around your neck. You're so much smaller compared to him. "Pretty necklace for my pretty girl..."

"Ungh, 'm cumming," you manage to slur out, movements growing more frantic, rhythm getting more sporadic the closer you get.

"Look at me, sweetheart."

It takes you a few seconds to register what he is asking. Your eyes drag over to his face. It's torture knowing you could be riding his cock instead of his fingers, but you know he'll want you to finish what you started. His fingers are doing a heavenly job, but the stretch isn't quite enough. You don't say that to him, though, knowing he'd probably give you hell for voicing it. He'd say you're insatiable and edge you until there are no tears left for you to cry.

"There you are..." he says once your eyes meet his. There's a hunger in his stare—an unspoken promise of the things he will do to you once you've finished fucking yourself on his fingers. Your whole body tenses, cheeks burning when he nods as though urging you to let go. "Can you look at me when you cum? Can you do that for me?"

When Seungcheol adds the smallest amount of pressure on the grip around your neck, you can't help the unadulterated moan that spills past your lips. You're so fucking dizzy, vision blurring on the edges. It's getting increasingly difficult to keep your eyes locked onto his when the world feels like it's about to crash down on you.

You still have your hands on his neck, and for a moment, you're distracted by how your engagement ring sits on your ring finger. The fat, silver diamond is a stunning contrast to his golden complexion.

"Come on, don't get distracted now. Cum for me so I can finally get you on my cock, hm?"

You come apart with a broken shout of his name, soaking his fingers with your cum, milky slick trickling down his knuckles and dripping on his stomach. At the height of your pleasure, Seungcheol decides to release his hold on your neck, letting the air and blood rush up to your brain. The sudden surge feels exhilarating, rendering you frozen in bliss as the feeling rips through you.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he remarks, his free hand coming up to brush back the hair from your face, letting your head loll into his hand sluggishly as it braces the back of your head. You look exhausted, back slouched and chest heaving. Still, he notices the way you're slowly grinding on his fingers. He knows you need more. "That looked like it felt good."

You nod, letting him slip his fingers out of you, sucking in a sharp breath at the sudden emptiness. "So good. Thank you..." Everything feels like it's aching—your legs, your back, and your pussy most of all. You're far from done, but you allow yourself to rest, lowering yourself to lie on top of him, face buried into his neck. You breathe his scent and allow it to root you in the moment.

Seungcheol wipes his stained fingers on your shirt, tsking you when you whine in protest. "It's literally your cum—why are you so grossed out about it?" he teases.

"Because..." you say slowly. When you realise you have nothing to say, you pick your head up, blinking at him.

Seungcheol hums, eyes amused when he looks down at you. "Mhm?"

You don't have an answer, so you kiss him instead. Seungcheol welcomes the kiss, letting his tongue meet with yours in a feverish kiss that makes your hands cling fervently to his hair. You're shifting on top of him restlessly, letting your pussy settle over the length of his cock, sighing heatedly into his mouth and letting his tongue swirl around yours sloppily.

Seungcheol grunts at the way you let your pussy slip up and down his throbbing cock. Your cunt is hot and so fucking wet, and he feels like he might combust from how good you feel against him.

Two orgasms should've been enough for you, but you know you won't feel fully sated without Seungcheol's cock dipping in and out of your pussy, leaving it all messy in a mix of your cum. You're not sure whether you can cum again, but you do know you want Seungcheol's cum inside of you, and soon.

"Inside," you whisper against Seungcheol's lips, not letting him respond before you smash your lips to his again. Reaching down to grab at his cock, you're just about to line the tip with your hole when he shoves you away with a harsh grip on your arm.

You yelp in surprise, the world turning into a blur, hardly comprehending that you're no longer sitting on top of him. You're now lying on your back, staring wide-eyed up at Seungcheol as he hauls your shirt off, leaving you just as naked as him.

Seungcheol can't help how his eyes gravitate towards your tits, all on full display for his eyes to feast on. "Fucking perfect," he mutters, one hand jerking up and down his cock as his eyes roam up and down your body, taking everything in. The sight isn't foreign to him, but all the blood still rushes to his dick the same way every time. You're too fucking perfect. If ever comes a day that he ever sees a single flaw in your body, he'll fault his eyes instead.

When you sigh, it comes out half a moan. "Hurry, Cheollie," you tell him, spreading your legs wider, holding yourself open with two hands on the back of your knees, baring yourself to him unashamedly. You're too desperate for his cock to worry about self-dignity now.

Seungcheol groans, stomach flipping at the sweetness dripping from your lips when you say his name so endearingly. "Alright, alright..." He presses one hand on the back of your thigh while the other hand grips his cock, running the leaking head up and down your sloppy cunt. "Just don't cum on me too soon like last time, yeah?"

"Why are you bringing that up!"

"Actually... maybe I wouldn't mind. You always shut up so good after you cum." He chuckles at the deathly glare you give him, choosing that exact moment to sink into your awaiting heat, amused when your glare twists into an expression of utter bliss. Oh, he could die happy like this—cock snug in your warm, tight pussy. He allows you a few seconds to adjust, letting his hands travel all the places of your body that he can reach, leaving your skin prickling.

"Move, Cheol...Please."

Seungcheol smirks at your pleading, watching the way you spread your legs even wider for him—inviting and beckoning him to take you like you're the sweetest and ripest forbidden fruit. "How do you want it, pretty?"

Your eyebrows knit in frustration. Surely , he's trying to tease you, purposely prolonging whatever this is when he could already be fucking you into the mattress by now. Still, you humour him, hoping he will give in. "Any way you want, I'll take it."

Seungcheol nods with a hum, nibbling at the insides of his cheeks as he glances down at the point where his cock disappears into your pussy. "Any way I want, hm?" he echoes back, swiping a thumb at your swollen clit, snickering when your hips jump, causing his cock to slip out, heavy girth springing up to smack against his stomach.

You reach down with one hand, guiding his cock back to your pussy, desperate to be filled again. "Please, just please." The words come out frantic, almost distraught. "I need you."

Eventually, Seungcheol relents to your pleas. You look so pretty when you're begging for his cock, and that look you're giving him—you look delirious already, and he has barely done a thing.

"Shh, I've got you, sweetheart," he mutters, slipping back inside. Much to your delight, he doesn't dawdle this time. Although he does start off slow, pressing forward until his balls are pressed firmly against your ass each time he sinks in, earning a quiet sigh from you every time. "Pussy taking me so well, princess..."

At this pace, you're able to feel every slide of his cock against your pussy, the way the veins along his length rub against your walls so delectably. "God, f-fuck, fuck, Seungcheol..."

Your lover is watching your face closely, groaning now and then whenever your walls tighten around him, but amused for the most part. He doesn't want to seem arrogant, but he thinks it's incredibly flattering that you still react this way to his cock after years of being together. You're always so eager for him, shivering under his caresses as if you're starved of his touch, as if he has never sunk himself into your tight pussy again and again, only to come back for more.

Even now, as he hooks his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to him, you're sighing out his name so exquisitely, the syllables rolling off your tongue effortlessly. Your pussy drips for him, the sweet nectar leaking onto his cock, staining your inner thighs.

A frustrated groan bubbles in your throat as you prop yourself up onto your elbows, scowling at the man who is currently not fucking you the way you both deserve it. The drag of his cock feels good, but you need more, and you know he does too. "Cheollie," you mewl in your sweetest voice, one hand grasping a handful of your breast, squeezing it in the hope of enticing him to go faster. "Need you to go faster, please..."

Seungcheol doesn't try to hide his smirk, stopping the movement of his hips entirely. He knows you're trying to lure and tempt him, just like the seductress you are. He would be lying if he said your siren gaze and the sultry lilt of your voice don't make him feel as though he's spellbound. It's hard not to give in when you're looking up at him like you want him to wreck and pillage your body until you are practically ruined for everyone else but him.

When you flash him a saccharine smile, it's as if there is a magnetic pull drawing him down closer to you, mouth hovering over yours. He breathes you in, painfully aware of how his cock twitches inside you when you peer at him through your lashes.

"I thought you said you'd take anything I give you," Seungcheol mumbles, hot breath fanning against your lips. He pecks your lips once, angling his head to the side when you try to lean in for more, rejecting your kiss. He coos when you pout at his rejection. "So take what I'm giving you. That's what you promised me, isn't it?"

Then he swoops down lower to trail kisses down your jaw and neck, nipping at your collarbone. You're scowling at his statement, irked that he's using your words against you. Seungcheol doesn't seem to care about your current predicament, licking his way down to the slope of your breast, biting down on the skin with enough force to make it hurt.

"Don't you want to feel good, Cheollie? Why are you making this longer than it should be?"

"Oh, don't you worry about me, darling. I'm very much enjoying myself," he murmurs, pressing tender kisses on the side of your breast.

You're opening your mouth to retaliate but decide against it at the last second. Instead, you press your mouth together, saying nothing as you lie back on the bed. You'll let Seungcheol have his way with you for now. Whatever game he's playing right now won't last long, and his control will crumble eventually—at least, that's what you're hoping.

When Seungcheol wraps his lips around your nipple, you let his name escape you in a sigh. His mouth is warm as he gently suckles, tongue circling the pebbled bud. You don't need to look down at him to know he's looking up at your face, taking in your reaction. "Feels good..." you pant when he stretches his jaw open further, taking more of your breast into his mouth, teeth skimming over tender skin.

Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer as you arch your back. The slight shift makes your brain short-circuit for a moment as his cock seems to burrow deeper inside of you, sending a flash of heat through your body. "Fuck, so big..."

Seungcheol hums against your chest, still sucking earnestly, lapping at your nipple with his tongue, pulling back now and then to look at the way your chest glistens with his spit. After some time, he switches to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, making sure it's covered in his spit just the same as the other one.

You're not sure whether Seungcheol realises it, but his hips have started moving again, cock pushing in and out with no precise pattern, only seeking the warmth of your cunt as it sinks in repeatedly. It's addicting but agonising as well because you want more, and you're not sure whether you can hold out any longer. "Cheol," you softly call out, hoping to gain his attention. You don't wait for him to respond before speaking again. "Need you to fuck me, please..."

He pulls back slightly, blowing cold air on your damp chest, making you shudder. "Aren't I already?" he asks as he litters kisses on the valley of your breasts, fucking into you less distractedly this time, the force of his thrust growing harder.

You nod, breath stuttering when he finally gains speed, not as fast as you'd like but enough for your mind to go hazy. "Y-Yeah, just need—fuck—just need more..."

Seungcheol's laugh comes out a little shaky. He pushes himself back onto his knees, ignoring your whine at the loss of his warmth. "Are you being greedy, princess?" He gathers both your legs together, letting them dangle over one of his shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs soothingly when he hears your sigh of relief from the switch of position.

"I'm not being greedy," you grit out, looking up at him, hissing when he delivers a notably hard thrust. "Please, please, just... faster..."

"See, what'd I say? That was you being greedy." Seungcheol admires you from this position, drinking in the quiet sounds you're emitting, savouring the fluttering of your pussy around his cock.

Your eyes begin to brim with frustrated tears. You love the man with all your heart, but this is taking it a little far, even for you. You're yearning for him, blood pounding in your ears, skin aflame with desire and an insatiable hunger that threatens to swallow you entirely. How much longer do you have to wait?

"I can't, Cheol," you sniff, tears spilling onto your cheeks. "P-Please, I really can't—"

Seungcheol shouldn't feel so satisfied with how you're crying from how overwhelming it is, but an undeniable sense of fulfilment washes over him at the sight of your tears. This is what he wanted, after all—to test your limit and push you to the edge. "Alright, sweetheart, don't cry, I've got you..."

With a kiss to your calf, Seungcheol finally grants you what you've been begging for all night, quickly finding a rhythm that immediately garners a loud cry out of you. He sighs, cock finally finding relief at the friction. He enjoyed the game while it lasted, but this—it makes him think that maybe he should've given in sooner. You could've been filled to the brim with his cum by now if it hadn't been for his stubbornness to see you pushed to your breaking point. With this thought in mind, Seungcheol fucks into you even harder, trying to make up for lost time.

More tears escape your eyes, but it's not out of frustration this time. It's incredible how quickly the tiny sparks of pleasure can become something mighty—an unreckonable force that racks through your whole body, vicious and ruthless, almost cruel in a way.

"Still with me?" Seungcheol asks, gritting his teeth at how well you're taking him, his hands squeezing onto your thighs roughly, the hold almost painful. But you're too preoccupied with your own pleasure to care about whether or not his hands will leave bruises.

"Baby, you still with me?" he repeats.

"Hmm..."

Seungcheol shakes his head, not satisfied with your answer. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

"Y-Yeah," you respond, breathing in sharply. "With you..." Your words trail off into a low moan, a sound that makes Seungcheol's eyes flutter shut as he ruts into you faster.

The sound of skin slapping against skin resonates through the bedroom. It's lewd and unmistakable. His balls slap against your puffy folds with each thrust, sending your slick splattering everywhere—on your ass, on the bed, some droplets even landing on his thighs. He loves it when you get all sloppy for him like this.

Your hand claws at his own, nails digging into his wrist. Seungcheol lets you remove his hand from your thigh, a growl ripping in his chest when he realises your intention. Before he knows it, he has his palm splayed on your breast, one of your smaller hands resting atop his, guiding him to squeeze. He squeezes once, then twice, relishing the way you moan for him when he does. "That's it, always so good for me. You deserve this, yeah?"

"Don't stop, C-Cheol..." When you look up at him, he seems torn between looking at your face or down at the spot where his cock meets your pussy. He doesn't settle on one, letting his eyes flicker back and forth, breathing growing ragged when he notices your eyes on him.

"Why would I stop, baby?" He lets his free hand settle on your unoccupied breast, kneading gently, enjoying how you writhe underneath him at the contact. Both hands pinch at your nipples, twisting just barely until they harden in his ministrations. "Why would I stop when you feel this good?"

You hadn't been sure at first whether you still had it in you to cum another time after doing it twice in a short span of time, but a single glance at Seungcheol has you disoriented. Something is churning in your stomach, coiling and winding like a tightly wound spring, poised to release if twisted a little further. The more you look at Seungcheol, the less focused your gaze becomes. Tiny beads of sweat trace a glistening path down his temple, and fine strands of hair cling to his forehead—a testament to the strenuous effort he has exerted thus far.

"Cheol..." you whine, tensing your thighs together, arching your chest up into his rough touches.

"I know, I know... I can feel you tightening around me," he grits out, veins in his neck jutting out as he continues to strain himself through his thrusts, beginning to lose himself in the feeling of being buried inside your heat. He retracts his hands from your chest to grab each side of your hips. This way, he has more control of your body, able to pull you down onto his cock every time he thrusts in, pressing into you deeper. "Shit, you feel so good, princess. So fucking good, taking me so well. You love this cock, don't you?"

You don't know whether Seungcheol knows how much his words affect you, but you certainly feel the tingling shudder lick a path from the base of your back to the nape of your neck. You let him grapple at your hips and move you however he pleases, using you for his pleasure.

"Say you love this cock, princess."

"Love it—fill me up so well, love your cock..." you slur.

"That's right, always so needy for it."

Seungcheol has been holding himself back for some time now, his balls heavy, ready for release. With the way your pussy envelopes him so nicely and the way you're moaning and whining out his name, he knows it will only be a matter of time before he finishes. "You close, baby?" he asks you, chest heaving with every laboured breath he takes. His eyes are screwed shut, afraid he'd cum too soon if he catches a glimpse of your fucked-out face and bouncing tits.

"Mmph, feels s-so good..."

Seungcheol brings one hand down to the space between your legs, slipping his thumb through the tight press of your plush thighs, quickly finding your clit. He doesn't take into account, however, the way your pussy would tighten around his dick as soon as he starts drawing quick circles around the sensitive bud. He doesn't have the time to warn you, only letting out a strained growl of your name as he is thrown over the edge, emptying himself inside you, filling you up in ribbons of cum that seem never-ending.

Taken by surprise, you can only squeal, wide eyes searching for his as you grab onto his wrist. Seungcheol keeps his hips pressed to yours, balls smearing slick over your ass as he fills you to the brim. You keen at the feeling, toes curling as you savour the warmth of his cum as it paints your walls white.

He shudders as the last spurts finally spill inside you, his hips rocking gently on their own, riding out the last few seconds. "Fuck, baby," he groans. He's panting, trying to suck in as much air into his lungs as he can with each inhale, the impact of his orgasm hitting more forcefully since he had been unintentionally edging himself for the past hour or so.

He knows you will eventually ask for more, but he's relieved you're giving him time to recover. He leans his head against your calf and closes his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing. It's hard because the thought that you're still in front of him, naked, dripping his seed, makes him feel winded in a way that is obscene.

"Cheol..."

"Yeah?" he grunts.

"You okay?"

He lets your legs fall from his shoulder, gently setting it down onto the bed, easing you to lie on your side. "Mhm... m' fine," he swallows, "just give me a minute."

When he slides out of you, you let slip a squeak that makes Seungcheol crack a small smile. He splays a hand on the back of your thigh, leaning back slightly to catch a glimpse of the mess between your legs. He can't help the stirring of his cock as he watches driblets of his cum leak out of you, seeping into the bedsheets.

Seungcheol finds it difficult to tear his eyes away from the glorious sight of your ruined cunt. He suddenly finds himself in a predicament. He knows he needs to take a breather, even if there is a part of him that aches to bury himself into you and fill you with his cum for the second time tonight.

Finally, he settles himself beside you, positioning himself so that he's spooning you from behind. He brushes his hand down from your shoulder to your arm and then down the enticing curve of your waist. Your skin is soft and supple against his palm. His caresses must tickle because your giggles fill his ears as you writhe away from his teasing touch. "Cheol..." your whine of his name makes a rush of affection wash over him.

Seungcheol grins, pushing himself up onto his elbow to lean over you just enough to nestle his face into the crook of your neck. When he nips at your jaw, you let out a breathless sigh, and he knows it won't be long until you ask him for more. He would give you more if only he hadn't just finished twice over the course of an hour. He will have to find another way to satiate your hunger.

Your eyes flutter shut, humming when you feel Seungcheol's lips on your shoulder blade. You don't say anything as you push your lower half into him, which earns a grunt from the man as his sensitive cock comes into contact with your ass. Much to your dismay, his hand immediately flies to your waist, gently moving you away from him.

"Baby," he rasps, the strain discernible in his voice. He pecks your lips when you tilt your head to pout at him. "Turn over and face me, hm?"

Slightly confused, you do as he says anyway, gasping when he pulls you into him with a hand on your lower back. With your chest pressed into his and face only inches away, you give him a questioning look, circling your arms around his neck and pressing a brief kiss to his lips. "Now what?"

Seungcheol responds by kissing you. His kiss is hard and fierce, stealing your breath as he sinks his teeth into your lower lip, soothing the stinging bite with a fleeting sweep of his tongue. You arch into him, moaning into his mouth when you feel his free hand trail up your chest to settle on the nape of your neck, allowing him to have a better reign.

Something presses against your aching cunt, and you have to break away with a dazed gasp, peering down between your bodies. Seungcheol has shoved his leg between yours, angling his thigh upward to press against you.

The hand on your back moves to the dip of your waist, encouraging you to roll your hips back and forth. The realisation of what he wants you to do makes you whimper. "Oh, God—"

"Shh, just focus on me, sweetheart. You can be a good girl and ride my thigh, yeah?"

When you try to respond, nothing comes out except a garbled moan. You must look so salacious to him—moving your hips back and forth like a desperate whore, dragging your wet pussy against his thigh, eyes rolling back from the simulation on your clit. You swear you see stars dancing in your vision, skin prickling as every thought in your mind withers into nothing.

"That's it, I can feel how warm you are... So fucking warm and wet."

You try to kiss him again but find yourself pulling away shortly after, too dazed to keep up with the force of Seungcheol's kisses. His thigh is drenched and sticky from the mixture of your juices and his cum that has leaked out of your hole, but he keeps you stable with a firm grip on the back of your thigh. Whenever you roll your hips, the squelching sound from between your thighs is distinct, and it makes your whole face burn.

With a sigh of his name, you weave your fingers through his hair, tugging when the stimulation becomes too intense for your liking. It feels fucking euphoric—the way his solid thigh feels against your soaked pussy as it drags up, down, up, down—but it's somehow not enough at the same time.

Seungcheol thinks your moans sound like angels singing in his ears, and he eagerly drinks it all in, watching your face intently at the same time, relishing the way your eyes roll back during moments when the pleasure washes over you in waves. "So cute."

"Fuck, Cheol, 's not enough..."

Seungcheol's mouth stretches into a grin, letting a few seconds pass in silence as he watches you rut desperately against his thigh, so keen to reach your long-awaited high. "Not enough? You're dripping all over me, though?" To prove his point, he withdraws his thigh from between your legs, shushing you when you whine in protest. "Let's see..."

Two of his fingers swipe at the sticky residue on his thigh. He lifts his hand to your face, showing the glossy remnant on his fingers. To further taunt you, he spreads the fingers apart, allowing a stringy thread of the creamy slick to bridge the gap between the two digits. He doesn't bother concealing his smirk when your sheepish face comes into focus, cheeks red from a combination of arousal and shame.

You huff when he sticks his fingers into his mouth, tasting the slick that clings to it. The deep hum that rumbles in his chest kindles a fire in you that you know can only be doused by Seungcheol's touch alone. You can only watch, stunned, mind teeming with a flurry of wild thoughts as he finally removes his fingers from his mouth.

"Now you choose, princess. It's either my thigh or nothing at all."

It takes you a moment to decipher his words. "But that's not fair..." you whine.

"Just choose."

"I don't wanna..."

"Time's ticking."

You give in—of course you do. Knowing Seungcheol, he probably would stay true to his words. He wouldn't have any problem leaving you high and dry as he excuses himself to the bathroom to clean himself up. Then, he would come back to bed as if nothing had happened, and he wouldn't give in no matter how much you cling to him and beg for even an ounce of his attention. Then you'd have to wait until the morning to finally get some relief, either by his fingers or tongue, because he always insists on fucking you only after he has had his dose of morning coffee. It's infuriating, but it would be a lie if you said you didn't enjoy his pesky games.

"Fine... Your thigh is fine."

"Use your big girl words."

"I need your thigh, please, Cheol. Pretty please..."

Seungcheol pauses briefly, letting your words sink in before he nods in approval. "Alright, if you insist."

When he slots his thigh between your legs again, it's as if you've stumbled upon an oasis amid a scorching drought. The pleasure is liberating, and you're sighing his name against the crook of his neck, melting into his touch, going putty in his hold. You're grasping at both his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as the tautness in your stomach gradually builds again. It's slow, almost torturous, but the mounting tension from before has you trembling, and Seungcheol notices. He always does.

"Breathe," he reminds you, tapping your cheek gently to ensure you hear him. "Take your time and breathe, 'm not going anywhere."

"Unghh, I don't know if I can—"

"You can, baby," he encourages softly.

Seungcheol pulls you even closer by your thigh, hitching your leg a little higher against his hips, spreading you open a little more. He can feel you throbbing against him, and the warmth emanating from between your legs makes him feel heady.

"Fuck," he cusses, wishing so badly it was his cock that was making you writhe in his embrace and cry out his name so sweetly. "Stay with me. Are you close?"

You sob at the question. "I don't know. God, C-Cheol..."

"Hey, look at me, princess." Seungcheol nods when you finally compose yourself enough to look at him. "Breathe, and focus on me."

The movement of your hips doesn't stop as he mutters his instructions.

"Uh-uh, keep your eyes on me," he reprimands when he notices your gaze flittering down to the glistening mess on his thigh. "That's right, keep those pretty eyes on me. That's it..."

You're sure you've lost all your ability to communicate effectively or conjure up a coherent sentence. The only word you manage to babble and stutter out is Seungcheol's name. No matter how much you try, you can't help the shaking of your legs or the ragged rise and fall of your chest as you try to gulp in enough air. It feels so fucking good—you want to tell him—but nothing comes out except choked moans and whimpers.

"Don't worry about anything else. Just focus on the feeling..."

"C-Cheol, 'm close... I don't—I'm—"

"Shh, just relax. It's going to feel so good when you let go," Seungcheol says, hand still secure on the back of your thigh, helping you grind down against him. He thinks he might need a long, cold shower after this is all over.

When you breathe in, the smell of Seungcheol's tantalising cologne fills your nose, and you can't help but cry out. The mix of patchouli and bergamot combined with the natural scent of his musk makes you tense against him. He smells heavenly. He smells like home. "Oh my God, ungh—"

"It's okay, you can cum. No one's stopping you."

Your eyes drift over his face, focusing on every feature and every detail, no matter how minuscule. Ultimately, it is precisely the look in his dark eyes that throws you over the edge. His eyes have an allure to them—filled with desire and longing that dance wildly in the shadows, luring you into their mysterious depth.

The pleasure doesn't hit you all at once—it starts from the end of your toes, trailing up your legs, erupting into flurries of flames in your stomach, winding up your spine like an electric current that singes at every nerve. The euphoria builds like a crescendo, like a warmth that blossoms into an inferno and sweeps through your whole being. Your skin burns, but you feel as though you're drowning—chest tight, eyes glassy, mouth agape in a silent shout. Blood roars in your ears, and each heartbeat feels like a drumbeat, pounding against the confines of your ribcage, a relentless rhythm that drowns out every other sound.

When the pleasure finally subsides, it leaves a lingering warmth that seems to simmer under your skin. It's a pleasant buzzing, one that makes you feel drowsy. You slump against Seungcheol, hiding your face in his bare chest, trying to hide your bashful smile that would give away how blissful you currently feel. You breathe in his perfume, grounding yourself, soaking in the heat of his body as he gently brushes a palm up and down your back.

Seungcheol tenderly clasps your hand, lifting it delicately to plant a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist. His kisses trail down, mouth caressing each fingertip before turning your hand gently. With utmost reverence, he presses his lips against the glimmering engagement ring on your finger, bestowing it with two tender pecks, a silent promise sealed in each kiss.

"I love you," he whispers against your temple, nosing at your cheekbone. "But do you think you could cum that fast again?"

Still recovering from your high, you struggle to grasp his words. "What do you mean?"

"Like before. I mean, I was barely in you, and you were cumming all over me so fast I almost didn't realise—"

Your loud gasp cuts him off. "You are such a dick! Stop talking about that!"

"Never!" he objects, dimples showing when he grins. "It's going to make for the perfect story to tell to all our friends—"

Deciding your words won't effectively shut his blabbering mouth, you're left with no choice but to resort to slapping his arm instead, not stopping until he seizes your wrist, effectively thwarting your assault on him.

"Okay, okay," he concedes with a laugh. "I'm just kidding. That story will forever stay with me and me only. I'm sorry, okay?"

"You don't look sorry."

"You're right, it was just so fucking hot—"

"You're insufferable. Break off our engagement right now."

The faux horror that overtakes his face is hilarious. "Alright, I'll stop. I really am sorry. Seriously."

You giggle at the admission. "You're stuck with me, you know? There's no backing out of a marriage with me."

He playfully sighs. "Hm, I'm not so sure about that.. I mean, it's not like we're already married—"

"Nice try, but I've already picked out my dress, and it's non-refundable."

"True, and I've just put a baby in you as well, so..."

You lean back, flashing him an incredulous look. "Again, nice try. Still on the pills, dummy."

"And what if they suddenly just... vanished?"

Snickering, you sit up, feeling unbearably icky and sweaty. "Why don't you marry me first, and then we can try having children. Deal?" You don't wait for his response, pushing yourself off the bed and shuffling your way to the bathroom. You can almost feel his eyes burning lasers into your bare ass.

"Why don't you start calling me daddy from now on? You know, for practice?"

"Absolutely not."

"What do you think about having four children?"

"I love you too, Seungcheol."

"Is that a yes?"

"You're cute."

There's a pause. "So, yes?"

"What should we do this weekend?"

You hear him get off the bed, his thundering footsteps drawing nearer. "Stop changing the subject!"

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ethereangel222 · 24 days ago

Text

our safe haven

nicholas alexander chavez & fem!reader

premise After years of marriage and raising their daughter, Nicholas and his wife, Y/N, find their love and passion deepening as they consider growing their family.

cw fluff and eventual smut, oral (f receiving), penetration p in v, unprotected sex wc 4k a/n soft vanilla!nicholas fic is needed. this is my fav fic in my drafts so far! i hope you guys enjoy this <3

Reblogs are highly appreciated.

Nicholas quietly entered the bedroom, the soft creak of the door muffled by the plush carpet underfoot. The subtle scent of Amelia's lavender bath soap lingered on him, a reminder of the bedtime ritual he had just finished. He padded over to his side of the bed, his broad shoulders still relaxed from reading Amelia her favorite story, and pulled back the covers.

You were already nestled beneath the duvet, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light on your face. The room was cozy, the air filled with the faint scent of the candles you had lit earlier—something calming, like vanilla and sandalwood. Nicholas slid into bed beside you, his body radiating warmth as the mattress dipped slightly under his weight.

He turned to face you, his hand immediately finding your hip under the sheets, his thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your sleep shirt.

"She went down easy tonight," he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile. "Asked for an extra story, though. Had to make a deal with her."

You chuckled softly, leaning into his warmth. The house was quiet now, the comforting weight of the day behind you, but as he lay there beside you, it brought back memories of when your life together had just begun—back when you were both teenagers, when everything had been new and full of promise.

You first met Nicholas when you were sixteen. He was the guy every girl had a crush on at your high school. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a natural charm that made it hard to miss him. He was the star of the football team, the kind of guy who could breeze through practice and still show up to class with that easy smile that made everyone feel like they had his attention. But he wasn’t just the jock everyone expected him to be—he surprised everyone, including you, when he joined the speech and debate team.

You’d been on the team for a while, focused on honing your skills and winning competitions. You were serious about it, and Nicholas, at first, seemed like he was just there to round out his resume. But as the practices went on, you realized there was more to him. He was good—really good. And there was a determination in him, a drive to be better, that matched yours. You couldn’t help but respect that.

It wasn’t long before the two of you started spending more time together. At first, it was just for debate practice, going over arguments and strategies late into the afternoon, but soon, those sessions turned into something more. After one particularly grueling practice, he had offered to walk you home. The conversation flowed easily between you, and by the time you reached your doorstep, you realized you were laughing more with him than you had with anyone else in a long time.

From there, it became a regular thing—sneaking out late at night to meet up at the park, lying under the stars and talking about anything and everything. Nicholas wasn’t just the confident, easygoing football player everyone thought he was. He had dreams, ambitions, fears he didn’t show to the rest of the world. You found yourself drawn to him, not just for his looks or his charm, but for the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world when he was with you.

That summer, everything between you intensified. The chemistry was undeniable. What started as late-night talks turned into stolen kisses, and before long, the two of you were inseparable. You’d sneak into football games just to watch him play, and he’d sit through your debate tournaments, always cheering you on from the sidelines. It was passionate, reckless, and all-consuming.

But it wasn’t just about being young and in love. Even then, you knew there was something deeper between you. Nicholas wasn’t like other guys you’d dated before—he was serious about you, about your future together, and that seriousness only grew when you both turned twenty and found out you were pregnant with Amelia.

The day you told him, you’d been terrified. You hadn’t planned for it, hadn’t expected it. But Nicholas had surprised you, just like he always did. He had sat quietly for a moment, processing, before pulling you into his arms and telling you that everything would be okay. “We’ll figure it out,” he had said, and the way he looked at you, with so much certainty, made you believe it too.

He was by your side through it all—the doctor’s appointments, the late-night cravings, the fear of becoming parents when you were barely more than kids yourselves. When Amelia was born, everything shifted. You got married soon after, a small ceremony with just your families, a simple exchange of vows that cemented what you already knew—you were in this together for the long haul.

And now, as Nicholas lay beside you, his hand moving slowly along your waist, his foot gently slid between your legs, grazing your skin with a slow, teasing motion. The soft, subtle contact sent a shiver of warmth through you, each caress deliberate yet comforting. The quiet intimacy of the moment made your breath hitch, the simplicity of his touch pulling you deeper into the connection you both shared.

It was then, with his foot still brushing against your skin, that he whispered, “You know... I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s time we gave her a sibling.”

His words sent a thrill through you, your heart skipping a beat. The thought of another child had been floating around in your mind for a while, but hearing Nicholas say it out loud made it feel more real, more possible. You turned to look at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “You think so?”

Nicholas grinned, his eyes darkening with intent. “Yeah,” he whispered, “I think it’s time.”

You smiled. The thought of expanding your family, of watching Amelia become a big sister, felt right. But then, a small worry crept in. “What if she wakes up?”

Nicholas chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your neck. “She’s out like a light,” he whispered, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. “And besides, we’ll be quiet. I promise.”

His fingers teased your skin, and your breath hitched as the familiar heat between you began to rise. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment. He shifted, positioning himself over you, his body warm and strong, the weight of him grounding you in the moment. His lips found yours again, and the kiss deepened, filled with both tenderness and desire.

Nicholas’ hands moved with a practiced ease, exploring your body in ways that made your breath catch. He knew you better than anyone else—knew exactly how to touch you, how to bring you to the edge of wanting more. His lips trailed down your neck, his breath warm against your skin, and you could feel the intensity between you building with every touch, every kiss.

“You sure about this?” you whispered, your voice breathless as his hand slid lower, teasing you, making your body respond instinctively to his touch.

Nicholas’ gaze locked with yours, his voice low and filled with the same determination he had shown since the day you met. “I’m sure,” he said softly, his hand moving with purpose now.

He gave you a soft, reassuring smile. His hand continued its slow descent, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts with deliberate ease. The heat of his touch sent a shiver through you, and your breath hitched, your body already reacting to the familiar, electric sensation of his fingers teasing your skin.

With one smooth motion, he tugged your shorts down, the fabric sliding easily off your hips. He didn’t rush, didn’t break eye contact as he took his time undressing you, as if savoring every moment. His touch was firm yet tender, knowing exactly how to build the anticipation with every movement. Your shirt followed next, leaving you exposed under his gaze, but there was no awkwardness, no hesitation—only the heat of the moment, and the years of trust and love between you.

Nicholas hovered over you, his eyes dark and intent, the air between you thick with the shared heat of the moment. His lips brushed softly against yours before trailing down your jaw, his breath hot as he moved to your neck. You could feel the anticipation building with every touch, every slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips traveled lower, kissing a path down your chest, the warmth of his mouth sending a shiver through you as he reached the curve of your breasts. He paused there, taking his time, his tongue flicking over your skin before gently closing his lips around one of your nipples. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you gasped, your fingers tangling in the sheets as his tongue swirled in slow, lazy circles.

As his mouth worked one breast, his hand slid up to your other, fingers teasing your nipple in a rhythm that matched the flicks of his tongue. The heat between you intensified, every touch, every flick of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands knew exactly where to go, building the tension, his fingers squeezing lightly before shifting to explore more, heightening the sensitivity of your skin.

His free hand, meanwhile, began to slide lower, tracing down your stomach and between your thighs. You gasped again as his fingers gently slipped under the fabric, teasing you at first, drawing out the anticipation. He alternated between kissing your breasts and watching your reactions as his fingers dipped lower, brushing against your most sensitive spot with an expert touch.

You arched into him, your breath catching as his fingers slipped inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. The feeling of his mouth on your breasts, combined with the gentle pressure of his fingers inside you, sent sparks through your body. He curled his fingers just right, finding that perfect rhythm, and your body responded immediately, hips lifting toward him as your hands gripped the sheets tighter.

Nicholas shifted the covers up slightly, casting the room in a soft shadow as he lowered himself under the blankets, his hands gently guiding your thighs apart. His breath hovered just above your skin, and the moment felt intimate, almost reverent, as he placed a soft kiss on your inner thigh. He always took his time, prolonging the anticipation, heightening your awareness of every touch, every kiss.

“Relax,” he murmured, you could feel the vibration of his words against your skin.

Then, without further teasing, his mouth found you.

The first touch of his tongue was slow and deliberate, a soft flick that sent a wave of pleasure through your entire body. You gasped, your fingers instinctively gripping the sheets as he settled into a rhythm. His free hand slid back up to your breast, teasing your nipple again, squeezing lightly as his mouth moved over you—exploring, teasing, and then going deeper. His digits slipping in and out, complementing the rhythm of his tongue.

Nicholas knew exactly how to work you, his tongue gliding over your most sensitive spot in slow, tantalizing circles before shifting, changing the pressure, keeping you on the edge without letting you tip over. The pleasure built steadily, every stroke of his tongue a carefully measured step toward your undoing. His fingers worked in time with his mouth, adding pressure and depth where you needed it most, the pleasure mounting with every touch.

You tried to stay quiet, your teeth sinking into your lower lip to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out, but it was impossible to keep still. Your hips moved involuntarily, responding to the rhythm he set, chasing the pleasure he so expertly gave.

Beneath the covers, the soft sound of his breath mingled with the wet, quiet sounds of his mouth working against you, the sheets muffling the intensity of the moment but not diminishing it. The world outside the bed faded to nothing, and it was just Nicholas—his hands gripping your breast and working between your legs, his mouth coaxing your body higher and higher with each flick of his tongue.

Your fingers tangled in the sheets, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt yourself nearing the edge. Nicholas seemed to sense it too—he pressed his mouth more firmly against you, his tongue moving faster, more precise, and his fingers working in perfect rhythm, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. The tension inside you coiled tighter, ready to snap.

The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight with pleasure as he continued, relentless but tender, pushing you further and further. Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Nicholas shifted slightly, his tongue finding that perfect rhythm, his fingers deepening their motion, and the world seemed to shatter around you.

Your body tensed, the pleasure flooding through you in waves as you came, your hips arching toward him, your hands gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles turned white. Nicholas didn’t stop, his tongue still working you through every shuddering moment, his fingers moving in time with the tremors running through your body as you trembled beneath him.

When the last wave of pleasure finally subsided, you lay there, breathless, your body still tingling from the intensity of it all. Nicholas emerged from under the covers, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he crawled up to meet you. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him, his body pressing down against yours in a way that was both grounding and electrifying.

"That’s just the start," he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with desire, his hands sliding up your sides again, ready to continue what he had so expertly begun.

Nicholas hovered over you, his body pressed against yours, his breath still warm from the intensity of what he had just done. You kissed him back deeply, your hand instinctively sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer. His skin was hot, his muscles taut beneath your touch, and you could feel the weight of his need pressing against you through the thin fabric that still separated him from you.

He pulled away slightly, his hands moving to the waistband of his own red plaid pj's, and without a word, he smoothly removed them, followed by his fitted shirt, tossing them onto the floor. The muscles in his arms flexed with the movement, and the light from the bedside lamp caught the lines of his chest and abdomen. He stood over you for a moment, naked and confident, his body strong and familiar yet still capable of making your breath catch.

You took in the sight of him—the hard lines of his chest, the way his muscles shifted under his skin, the subtle sheen of sweat that glistened on his collarbone. Even after all these years, he had the ability to leave you in awe, the years of familiarity doing nothing to dull the sharp edge of your desire for him.

He noticed the way you were looking at him, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he leaned down again, brushing his lips softly against yours, his kissed trailing along your jaw, down to your neck. His hands slid up your sides, his fingers spreading wide over your ribcage, holding you firmly as his mouth explored your skin. Every touch, every kiss was filled with the same passion he had shown since the beginning, but there was a tenderness to it now, something that went beyond just physical desire.

He kissed his way down your body, the warmth of his lips sending a ripple of heat through you with each soft touch. You could feel the hard lines of his body pressing against you as he moved lower, his hands guiding your legs apart again, his breath teasing your skin.

But this time, as he moved between your thighs, he paused, lifting his head just slightly to meet your eyes. "You ready for this?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with a kind of determined softness.

You nodded, your body already aching for him, your skin alive with the anticipation of what was to come.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Nicholas positioned himself over you, his body perfectly aligned with yours. His hands slid up to cradle your face, his eyes locking with yours as he lowered himself, entering you with a slow, deep thrust that made your breath catch in your throat. The connection between you was immediate and intense, the weight of his body grounding you as he began to move.

He started slow, his movements steady and controlled, each thrust pushing deeper, filling you completely. Your body responded to him instinctively, your hips arching to meet his, your hands gripping his shoulders as the pleasure built between you, hot and urgent.

Nicholas leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both gentle and hungry, the slow grind of his hips driving you both higher with each thrust. The heat between you was overwhelming, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, the intimacy of the moment making everything feel heightened, more intense.

As he picked up the pace, the pleasure intensified, and you could feel the tension coiling deep inside you again, the familiar ache building as Nicholas moved faster, his breath coming in shallow gasps against your neck. His elbows resting on the either side of your head, his body pressing against yours in a way that left no space between you.

The sounds of your quiet gasps and his low groans filled the room, mixing with the rustling of the sheets and the steady rhythm of your bodies coming together. Every movement was precise, deliberate, and filled with the urgency of the desire that had been building between you since the moment he climbed into bed.

Nicholas' movements became more intense, his pace quickening as the heat between you built to an almost unbearable level. You could feel every inch of him, the pressure and the pleasure combining in a way that left you breathless, your body arching to meet his with every thrust.

Your hips lifted to meet him, pushing yourself closer to the edge with every thrust. Nicholas groaned softly. He kissed your shoulder, his breath hot and unsteady against your skin, his body tense with the effort of holding back, waiting for you.

“I want us to come together,” he whispered, his voice rough with need, his thrusts hitting your spot in a way that made it impossible to think about anything else.

His breath quickened, his movements becoming more urgent, his hands now gripping your waist as he thrust deeper, faster.His own control was slipping, his low groans vibrating against your skin as his body tensed.

"Come with me," he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, waiting for you to tip over the edge.

That was all it took. His words, way his body moved against yours—it all came crashing together in a flood of sensation. Your orgasm hit you hard, your body tightening around him as waves of pleasure coursed through you, your breath catching in your throat as you cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you lost yourself in the intensity of the moment.

Nicholas followed right behind you, his body shuddering as he gave in to his own release, his movements growing erratic as he thrust deep one last time, his own moans mingling with yours as he came, his body trembling above yours as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still pressed together, both of you catching your breath, still coming down from the high, a reminder of the intimacy you had just shared.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his breath still heavy. “That was… perfect."

Just as the two of you lay there, tangled in each other’s arms, your breathing still steadying, you heard the soft creak of the bedroom door. Your heart skipped a beat as a small, tentative voice broke the quiet.

“Mommy?” Amelia's voice was soft but clear in the stillness of the room, filled with concern. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Your mind raced. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you frantically pulled the covers over yourself and grabbed for your shorts and sleep shirt, dressing hurriedly under the blanket. Nicholas watched you with wide eyes, his own face a mix of panic and amusement as you scrambled to get decent.

Finally, after a moment that felt far too long, you managed to pull your shirt on, smoothing your hair and taking a deep breath before facing Amelia. She stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed bear, her little brow furrowed with worry.

“Ames, baby,” you called softly, sliding out of bed and quickly making your way over to her. You crouched down in front of her, your hand resting gently on her shoulder. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Mommy’s not hurt, I promise.”

Amelia looked up at you with wide, concerned eyes. “But I heard you... You sounded like you were sad or something.”

You smiled softly, brushing a hand through her hair. “I know, baby, but I’m not sad. Sometimes grown-ups just talk loud when they’re... having a conversation. I’m really sorry if I scared you.”

Her little face softened a bit, though she still looked unsure. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m really okay,” you assured her, pulling her into a hug. “I promise, sweetheart.”

You could feel her relax a little in your arms, and you stood up, taking her small hand in yours. “Let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

She nodded, still clutching her bear, and you gently led her back down the hallway toward her room. The quiet creak of the floorboards underfoot seemed louder in the calm of the night, the house otherwise still. When you reached her room, you flicked on the small nightlight beside her bed, casting a soft, comforting glow around the room.

You guided her to her bed, pulling back the covers and helping her climb in. She snuggled down immediately, her little bear tucked close to her chest. You sat beside her, tucking the blankets around her small frame, smoothing the fabric out with gentle hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Mommy?” she asked again, her voice small as she blinked sleepily up at you.

You leaned down and kissed her forehead, brushing a hand through her soft hair. “I’m sure, baby. I’m so sorry I woke you up, but everything’s fine. You can go back to sleep now, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes already starting to droop as the comfort of her bed took over. “Okay. Can you leave the door open a little?”

“Of course,” you whispered, giving her one last kiss before standing up. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Nicholas had followed quietly, standing in the doorway with a soft smile on his face. He stepped forward, leaning down to kiss Amelia's cheek. “Goodnight, Amelia. Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy,” she mumbled, already half asleep.

You and Nicholas exchanged a tender smile, quietly backing out of the room and leaving the door slightly ajar, just as she had asked.

As you returned to your bedroom, you let out a small sigh of relief, the tension from earlier finally melting away. Nicholas wrapped an arm around your waist as you slid back under the covers together.

“Well, that was close,” he whispered with a chuckle, his breath warm against your ear.

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “Definitely closer than I’d like.”

Nicholas kissed the top of your head, his hand resting comfortably on your side as you settled into the bed once more. “We’re going to have to be a lot quieter next time,” he teased, pulling you closer.

“Definitely,” you agreed, resting your head on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath as the quiet of the night wrapped around you both once again.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas alexander chavez imagine #nicholas alexander chavez x you #nicholas alexander chavez fic #nicholas chavez #writing #smut #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez smut

868 notes · View notes

softieyuume · 1 month ago

Text

Sappy Warrior

✿ Sylus x fem!reader

✿ He's utterly, undoubtedly and hopelessly in love with you.

✿ pure fluff. Grassland Romance setting.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────

The sound of the festivities outside echoed into the yurt, muffled by the thick canvas walls. The air was warm and cozy as the flickering light from the single oil lamp cast long shadows around the room. The laughter from outside the yurt could be heard, but the intimate atmosphere inside the tent created the illusion of a world all their own.

Sylus laid his head on your lap, his face nuzzling close to your stomach, his expression showed a picture of contentedness. His eyes drifted shut as he felt your fingers carding through his soft locks of white hair, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He allowed himself a moment of respite, enjoying the sensation of you caressing him so intimately. His body was still thrumming with adrenaline from the competition earlier, but being wrapped around you felt more rejuvenating than celebrating a victory feast.

After a few moments of enjoying the silence, Sylus slowly opened his eyes, looking up at your face for brief seconds before he finally spoke, his voice low and filled with a touch of laziness, "I'm surprised you're so calm. I thought you would be more upset with me carrying you around like a spoil of war."

"I'm used to your antics by now, Sylus." You let out a soft chuckle as your fingers continued massaging his scalp. Your gaze looked down at him, your voice had a hint of playfulness in them. "Besides, I didn't want you to be surrounded by throngs of girls giving you pouches and striking up an opportunity to flirt with you."

An amused smirk tugged at the corners of Sylus's lips as he responded in a drawl, "Jealous, sweetie?"

His eyes glittered with mischief as he teased you, knowing full well how easy it was to make you envious. He was quite used to riling you up and taking pleasure in seeing your reactions.

You rolled your eyes in response to his words, though a hint of pink hue dusted your cheeks. Your fingers moved from his hair to lightly poke his cheek, your tone laced with feigned irritation, "I am not jealous."

You tried to appear nonchalant, but he could read the subtle signs of annoyance in your eyes. Even if you didn't want to outwardly admit it, there was a twinge of jealousy lurking beneath the surface, and he was relishing it.

Sylus's smirk widened even more, his eyes sparkling with a sly arrogance as he pushed himself up to sit in front of you, positioning himself so that he was hovering above you given his tall height. He could sense your annoyance and it only amused him further. Leaning in, his lips were dangerously close to your ear as he murmured, "Are you sure about that, angel?"

Your breath hitched when he moved closer, his proximity sending tingles down your spine. You tried to maintain your composure, but your facade crumbled as he got even more closer, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your ear. You shivered slightly, your voice coming out as a breathless whisper, "Yes, I'm sure. I'm not jealous, I just... don't like the idea of you, with a harem of admirers."

He chuckled lowly, his lips curving into a smug smile as he heard the slight waver in your voice. He shifted even closer, his body almost pressed up against yours as he continued to tease you. "You're not jealous, but you don't like me having a harem of admirers." He repeated, his voice dripping with mockery. "That sounds like jealousy to me, sweetie."

You bristled at his response, your cheeks flaming red in embarrassment. You huffed and turned your head away from him, trying to hide the evidence of your insecurity. "Hmph. Think whatever you like."

Sylus smirked at your reaction before moving his body so that he caged you in with his arms on either side of you, effectively trapping you against the edge of the bed. He leaned in even closer and nuzzled affectionately against the crook of your neck, his voice coming out a deep purr. "Hmm, my jealous beloved, how cute."

Your eyes narrowed furiously down at him, trying your best to keep your cool despite the heat that was spreading across your skin as his large arms wrapped itself around your waist, pulling you close to him.

"Let me go, you clingy bear." You grumbled, trying to push him off, though it proved to be impossible given his ridiculously massive strength.

He ignored your half-hearted protest, instead, he pulled you to sit on his lap, his body molding against yours as if trying to merge into one. He could practically see the heat steaming from your cheeks, and it only fueled his amusement.

"Nah." He drawled, nuzzling his face against yours affectionately. "You're stuck with me, angel and I'm never letting you go."

There was a brief flash of pain in his eyes but it quickly masked to a softened gaze. His voice warm and loving as he spoke, "Never again."

As much as you wanted to stay irritated, to keep up the pretense of being indignant, but the way his voice softened with tenderness made it difficult. And his words strike a chord in you as you recall his difficult past.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, and you leaned your head on his forehead, your hand gently cradling his cheeks with a gentle reassuring smile, "I won't leave you, Sy. I promise."

He let out a contented sigh, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back, his gaze stared deeply into yours before he buried his face against your neck once more, inhaling your scent and savoring the feeling of you being in his arms.

"Good." He replied, his voice low and possessive. "You're mine and I'm never letting you go."

He pulled you closer, his hold tight as if afraid you would slip away from him, a testament of how much he didn't want to lose you ever again.

Your heart fluttered when you felt his arms tighten around you, his possessive grip making your heartbeat raced faster than usual. You closed your eyes, melting in the warmth and safety of his embrace.

"And you're mine." You murmured back, your hands finding purchase on his chest as you leaned back a bit, your fingers gripping at his attire. "No one else's. You're mine, got it?"

There was a fierce determination in your voice, a silent promise that you would fight tooth and nail to keep him by your side.

His heart warmed at your words, a strange mix of pride and affection settling in his chest. He chuckled, his arms wrapping around you a little tighter as he replied with a teasing tone, "Is that a hint of possessiveness I hear from my sweet darling angel? How surprising."

You huffed in response, your cheeks slightly flushed as you tried to maintain a dignified expression. "Hey, it's only fair." You argued, trying to keep your voice steady. "You get to be all territorial and possessive, but I can't?"

He grinned at your protest, his eyes sparkling with a sly glimmer. "Oh, you can be. I never said you couldn't " He replied, his tone filled with playful banter. "I just didn't think you had it in you, sweetie."

Flustered, you tried to hide your embarrassment by squishing his cheeks, struggling to calm down your racing heartbeat from his relentless teasing. "Urgh. You're hopeless."

He let out a hearty laugh at your reaction, though his voice was slightly muffled due to your hand squishing his cheeks. He found your annoyance quite adorable, especially since it wasn't genuine. He reached up and grabbed your hand, gently prying it away from his face.

"Hopelessly in love with you, my beloved." He purred, his eyes gleaming with affection and tenderness as he brought your hand close to his, giving your palm a soft kiss. The gesture made your heart flutter tenfold and you couldn't resisted planting a soft peck on his cheek.

"Who would've thought Grassland's mighty warrior could be such a sap." You chuckled, a smile finally graced your lips as you leaned forward, your lips whispering sweetly against his lips. "My sappy warrior."

"Only yours, sweetie." He hummed softly, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction from hearing your affectionate nickname for him. He leaned forward to capture your lips into a kiss - a sweet kiss that was filled with the subtle promise of more to come.

You pulled away after a while, your face still flushed red from embarrassment and the lingering effect of the kiss. "Sylus.. Thank you for loving me..” You murmured sweetly, your hands were still on his face, your thumbs rubbing gently against his cheeks.

His heart swelled as he caught the hint of shyness in your voice. He brought a hand up to brush aside a strand of hair from your face, his expression filled with affection and pure adoration towards you.

"Believe me, sweetie, loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done." Sylus responded with a sincere smile. He leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead, his fingers caressing your cheek gently. "And I'll always love you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the mixture of tenderness and sincerity in his tone sending a wave of warmth through your heart. You leaned into his touch, your eyes softening as you looked at him.

"Sap." You repeated, but there was no real annoyance behind your words this time. Instead, your hands moved to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his white hair as you rested your forehead against him, eyes fluttering shut and finding comfort in his embrace.

He chuckled, feeling a surge of affection wash over him as you leaned into his touch and called him 'sap' yet again. He moved his hand to caress your cheek, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw with a soft touch.

"Your sap." He replied teasingly with a possessive edge to his voice, his fingers wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer, his lips peppering kisses across your jawline with a playful yet determined whisper. "All yours for as long as you want me, my dear beloved.”

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace x reader #lnds fanfic #lnds sylus #lnds x reader

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badgerbl00d · 1 year ago

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first dates with the one piece boys

☆ characters: shanks, crocodile

☆ up next: taking an aphrodisiac w/ one piece boys ft. ace, kidd, and law

☆ summary: first dates with shanks and crocodile, crocodile is kind of as asshole but he's whipped so like it's cute..., suggestive content

☆ a/n: i'm back! i'll try to post something else this week but uni is kicking my ass :p requests are open!

☆ 18+, mdni

shanks:

“Ready, sweetheart?”

You blushed, nodding as you tried to ignore the cheers and whoops that erupted from the rest of the crew on board.

Shanks shot a look over his shoulder and you were rewarded with immediate silence.

He placed a hand on the small of your back and gently guided you alongside him onto the island.

“Use protection!” someone called out. Definitely Yasopp.

“Ignore ‘em,” Shanks said.

“So you don’t wanna use protection?”

Shanks shot you a look, surprised at your quip, “No! Yes! I mean- well, no… We don’t have to y’know- Whatever you want to do ....”

“Very smooth, Captain.”

He laughed, bringing you toward him, and placed a rough kiss on the top of your head.

“Ya make me nervous, what can I say?”

Your chest contracted at this confession. You felt an embarrassing amount of pride watching him rendered so uncharacteristically bashful from your words.

You slipped your hand into his, giving him a soft squeeze, “Just cause this is a date doesn’t mean anything changes between us.”

“Well, we might kiss. And according to you we might fu-”

“Shanks.”

He laughed, louder this time, “Sorry, sorry. I think you’ll like where I’m taking you.”

There was a cool breeze making its way over both of you, giving you temporary reprieve from the summertime warmth the city was buzzing with. Overgrown trees and flower bushes poured into the lamp-lit streets.

You talked with each other, never a dull moment between the two of you, as you walked toward wherever Shanks was planning on taking you.

By the time you stopped walking, you’d made it to a much more empty part of town.

Shanks pointed to a sign on the corner, ‘Happy Hour 8 p.m. - 10 p.m.’

“A bar,” you mused, playfully rolling your eyes at him, “How surprising.”

He smiled and tugged at the strap of your dress, “Tsk, tsk. So impatient.”

He led you into the dinghy building, the wooden door damaged from what you imagined was years of drunk patrons spilling their drinks over themselves and their surroundings. The inside was dusty and it looked as though no one had used it for years.

“Your usual, honey?” Shanks asked, approaching the bar.

“Please.”

He smiled at you, “Yes, captain.”

God, he was handsome.

You watched Shanks ordering your drinks from where you stood, looking at his face through the mirror behind the bartender. You pressed your thighs together as a familiar pulsing sensation began coursing through your lower half. You accepted long before this date that it was beyond your control- he was just so handsome. He ran a hand through his hair, winking at you in the mirror. You blew him a kiss and though you couldn’t be sure in the dim light a pale blush seemed to spread over his features.

“One martini please, with three olives. And a Gin and Glamour.”

You shot him a look, Gin? You?

“Follow me this way,” the bartender said.

A smirk settled onto your captain’s face and he beckoned you toward him.

The bartender opened a tall door that seemed to lead to darkness.

“Enjoy,” he said. Curiosity had completely taken over and you led the way through the dark hallway, the faint sound of a bass being plucked echoing through, until you reached the end which was covered with a thick velvet curtain.

You pushed through, Shanks’ hand once again finding itself on your back, though much lower this time.

Soft, warm light lit up the room. Your eyes immediately jumped to the jazz band in the center illuminated by a red light. “… and in July, a lemonade, to cool you…,” the singer was halfway through "I Wish You Love". There were booths stationed around, with dark mahogany tables and wine-red velvet couches. Several other couples were spread through the bar, the soft buzz of background conversation filling the room.

“Shanks,” you gasped.

“You didn’t really think I’d take you to a shitty bar for our first date did ‘ja?”

“I’m going to choose not to answer,” you smiled, taking his hand in yours. For a split second your attention was taken away from the room you were in and you could only focus on the feeling of your hand in his- his strength apparent even without him trying.

“Must suck having to be the guy up front, huh?”

You giggled and pulled him toward an empty booth with a good view of the band, “I’ll say. Though I would like that martini.”

“How ‘bout you go sit and I’ll grab it for you, sweetheart,” he said, gently patting your ass as you turned.

With your drinks in hand, Shanks sat next to you, pulling you in closer to him. “Looks like we’re the only new couple in here,” he whispered in your ear, gesturing over toward a couple in the middle of a heated makeout session. You smiled at him, your eyes glimmering with mischief, “Hm, wanna try blending in?”

Shanks smiled, catching on to your request. You sipped your martini and bit an olive off of the toothpick that rested in the glass.

“We’ve kissed before, y’know.”

“We have!? I think I’d remember if we had,” he returned.

“No, no, we did,” you said, and he gave you a look that begged you to elaborate, “It was a few months back- when we did that stupid drinking contest. We were both pretty drunk, but I’d drank a lot less than you. Anyways, um, everyone had gone to bed or, I dunno, gone to find something else to do and we were left alone on deck. Unsupervised.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at him earning a laugh.

“I don’t remember it well, but I remember we laughed after. A lot.”

Shanks was smiling, resting his head on his hand as he gazed up on you. You averted your gaze.

He moved quickly and by the time you realized what was happening you were already sinking into the kiss, bringing a hand up to grab the collar of his shirt, anything to stabilize yourself.

Your heart was crawling up your throat, Shanks’ eyes were closed tight and he was clearly trying to savor every moment of the indulgent feeling of your lips against his. It warmed your heart that a man so feared on the open sea was reduced to a gentle, eager mess the moment he kissed you.

You leaned further into him and his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands palming at your hips. His facial hair tickled and poked your face earning a head-spinning giggle from you. Shanks pulled away, his breaths short and

“I want to tell you how long I’ve been wanting to do that but apparently this isn’t my first time kissing you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

The jazz band had started a new tune, longer notes and the steady strum of the bass playing a rendition of Waltz for Debby, further amplifying the intimacy between the two of you.

“Hopefully you remember this one,” you said smirking at him, “Or do you need a more memorable one?”

“Are you asking to kiss me again? Or do you just want confirmation that you’re a good kisser?”

“I am a good kisser. Better than you, anyway.”

“HA! You don’t even come close!”

“So arrogant, Captain. But I’d love to prove you wrong,” you took another sip of your drink.

Pinching his cheeks between your fingers you pulled him toward you, this time savoring how he tasted. The bitterness of the whiskey on his lips coated your mouth as you slipped your tongue past his. Shanks’ breathing deepened and his fingertips sunk further into your hips- you could feel where you’d find bruises tomorrow morning. You brought a hand up to softly hold his throat and he moaned-

Oh god, he moaned!

You pulled away pupils blown and lips puffy.

Shanks’ cheeks were deep red, a sight that had your ego swelling.

“You know,” he started, breathless, “I think you may be right.”

You smiled and finished the rest of your drink, “Need more evidence?”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead, running a hand through your hair.

“As a matter of fact, Y/n, I do.”

It was late when you finally found your way back to the ship. Shanks’ face was covered in red blotches of your smeared lipstick and your lips were equally messy. Your dress strap was falling off of your shoulder and Shanks’ shirt was plenty unbuttoned.

“Well,” he said, placing a kiss on the back of your hand, “Now you get to choose.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“My bed or yours?”

You laughed and wrapped your hands around his neck to bring him down for another kiss.

“Yours.”

(whipped!)Crocodile:

“You owe me money, Croc.”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

He reached for your hand, which you let him take.

He pressed his lips to it and started to trail kisses up your arm until you stopped him by pushing him off you and taking a seat on his lap.

“If I go to dinner with you will you give me my money?”

“You’ll get it either way, sweetheart. A job well done is a job well done. I just want to take you out.”

Liar, you thought.

But still, you took a second to think about it, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder, kissing your collarbone.

You were intoxicating to him, completely overwhelming all of his senses. He knew how unprofessional it was to involve himself with the assassins for hire he dealt with but this was now his eighth time working with you and though you always did a fantastic and clean job, the quality of your work wasn’t really the reason he was hiring you anymore.

“Where would you take me?”

“Desert Point. Or anywhere you wanted, really. I’ll cook for you if you’d like.”

You shifted in his lap, letting your thighs straddle his hips, and looked up at him.

He pulled out a cigar from his breast-pocket, which you quickly snatched from his hand, “I hate the smell.”

He put a hand up in surrender and placed the cigar back in his pocket.

Your eyes were focused on him, looking at his lips and trailing a finger up his neck. Your lips pouted as you considered his offer and the smell of your perfume filling every nook and cranny of his office and still, it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted all of you.

The two of you had, of course, had a handsy encounter or two and you were more than familiar with how he tasted after a long night of office work and whiskey. But, greedy and selfish as ever, the warlord wanted more. He wanted you. In the mornings in his bed, and at night by his side.

“Alright. You can cook for me, I suppose.”

He smiled, not even trying to fight the rare display of happiness.

“Any requests?”

You got up from his lap, batting away his hands which tried to grab you and hold you.

“Don’t burn anything. I’ll bring a bottle of that whiskey you like,” you said heading open the door to his office, “Tomorrow night at 7.”

Crocodile leaned back in his chair, savoring the lingering smell of you that had been making it difficult to concentrate for the past week, and waited until the click on your heels was far enough away to call Miss All Sunday and ask that she, “Please cancel all my appointments tomorrow.”

You knew Crocodile’s apartment well, having paid a few unknown visits and a few known ones. The last time you visited was after Crocodile had begged you to stop by for a glass of wine. You ended up drinking closer to five and neither of you could remember anything the morning after. You did, however, take note of the safe in his office where, if Baroque Works intel was anything to go off of, he kept the cash he used to pay black market hires such as yourself. Tonight would be a perfect opportunity to get your money, which you suspected he had no real intention of giving you.

Dinner had gone well and you found yourself in his office, lounging on his couch.

A jazz record played softly in the background and you’d both taken off a few layers of clothing. The only lighting was provided by a few candles he’d lit and you sat facing each other, each several glasses of wine in.

“Stay here for a while,” he said, softly rubbing up and down your leg which you had draped over his lap, “With me.”

“I have work, Croc.”

“I’ll hire you, full-time.”

“No offense to your…. staff, but their work is a bit beneath me.” He laughed, “Then I’ll fund your stay here. You won’t pay for anything.”

This interested you. Staying a week in the nicest apartment on the continent with Crocodile wasn’t such a terrible deal. You swished your wine around in your cup.

“Will you cook?”

“For you? Of course.”

You stared at him and pretended to pass the thought over as he kissed your neck and palmed at your ass.

“Give me a chance to convince you to stay.”

“How do you plan on doing that?”

A smirk settled on his face and he pulled you in for a kiss.

You indulged him and deepened the kiss, letting your tongue slip past his lips.

You giggled and sunk into his hold on you, his big hands holding you steady.

“I’ll stay, I’ll stay,” you buried your face into his chest, trying to fight the warmth in your cheeks.

The warlord squeezed you even tighter, earning a bout of laughter from you that placed a smile on his face.

“This is bad for your image you know. You’re getting soft,” you mused, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I promise you I am anything but soft right now.”

“Ha. Ha.”

He wrapped a hand up into your hair, gently pulling back at the base of your neck so he had full access to your neck, and sunk his teeth in biting gently so as not to draw blood but not gently enough to avoid leaving a mark.

Your back arched into him and you mewled at the feeling, your nails digging into his shoulder.

He brought your head back up and kissed you.

You brought your hands up to his collar and began undoing his tie, leaving it hanging on his shoulders.

Slowly and without interrupting the kiss, you began undoing the buttons on his shirt. Crocodile leaned back into the couch to make your job easier and began undoing his belt, which you took from him.

Crocodile went to bring his hands back up to your neck but- they didn’t move.

He looked down and his belt was fastened around his wrists. He tried to tear it but you’d done a damn good job and he was rendered rather helpless.

You got up and, after placing a soft kiss on his forehead, made your way to the safe behind the painting on the wall.

“You said you’d stay!”

Not that it was much of a problem for him but Crocodile preferred when things went over smoothly.

“Did I? Hmmm,” you said, ear to the safe as you turned the dial listening for the telltale click that let you know you unlocked it, “I lied.”

Click!

“And if I make you stay? This makeshift restraint isn’t sea prism stone.”

You laughed and turned to look at him.

“Go ahead.”

He scoffed. You both knew well you were the last person on earth he’d ever harm.

“I’m gonna take my money and then some as a tip, alright? I will miss you though,” you said, making sure his arms were still tied in his lap.

He couldn’t help but smile as you turned back around to the very empty safe.

Your stomach dropped.

“Where is the money-”

“Like I’d keep it here, sweetheart. Especially not with you coming over.”

“You’re a thief. And a dirty one at that.”

“I’d take more offense if it wasn’t coming from you.”

You huffed and turned to his desk where you were quickly opening and closing drawers looking for where he’d moved the money.

“Come and finish your wine, Y/n.”

“It isn’t here, is it? You’re a liar and a thief,”

He stayed silent and gestured toward your spot on the couch, a satisfied smirk settled on his infuriatingly handsome face.

“Crocodile…” you warned, “I think you know better than to not pay me.”

He smiled, as though daring you to continue. Or what? the expression on his face begged.

“Stay the week with me,” he said as you approached, “Please.”

You took your seat next to him and looking down at his hands noted the very significant absence of a belt tied around them. Your heartbeat picked up as he used a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re good, sweetness, but I’m better.”

You sighed and let him kiss you, reluctantly leaning into his touch.

“You’ll stay the week.”

You nodded and were upset at yourself for feeling excited at the thought. You felt like a schoolgirl holding her crush’s hand.

“Shall we go to bed then?”

He smiled and picked you up princess-style, one arm around your waist and one under your knees.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a kiss on his cheek, “If you keep this game going you’ll end up having to marry me, you know.”

He smiled, his most sincere smile of the night.

“Ah, wouldn’t that be terrible?”

#shanks #shanks one piece #red hair shanks #red hair shanks one piece #shanks x reader #shanks x you #shanks x y/n #shanks fluff #i love shanks i need him so bad #crocodile #crocodile one piece #sir crocodile #sir crocodile one piece #crocodil x you #crocodile x reader #crocodile x y/n #crocodile fluff #crocodile smut #badgerbl00dwrites

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rheya28 · 1 year ago

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Sol School of Fashion ♥ The Sims 4: Build // CC

Sol School of Fashion "SOF" is a well known fashion studio/school located in Del Sol Valley. SOF is a space that encourages boldness, creativity, and innovation. Sims can have access to a café, photo studios, a classroom, a meeting room, a lounge, as well as a customizable runway with a backstage dressing room that consist of all the fashion necessities needed to produce a professional fashion show event.

➽ Speed Build Video

➽ Rheya's Notes:

♥ Hi guys, today I present to you SOL School of Fashion "SOF". This build/project is extremely special as I collaborated with the lovely and talented @farfallasims who kindly curated all the looks for the 2023 SOF Fashion Show Event Looks Curated by: @farfallasims [ Look Book Link ] 25:23

➽ Important Notes:

● Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators ● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

➽ Lot Details

Lot Name: Sol School of Fashion Lot type: Generic lot type or Cafe Lot size: 40x30 Location: Starlight Boulevard, Del Sol Valley

➽ Mods:

TOOL MOD by TwistedMexi

♥ CC LIST:

Awingedllama : Boho Living, nostalgia living

Greenllama: The woodwind collection

Novvas: Holz Kitchen

Qicc: Sleep Hallway, Urban Bedroom

S-imagination: Nota

Sooky: Abstract framed posters -wooden frame

Sooky: Bon ton n1 ceiling lamp - Tall

Syboubou: Daguerre Reica Camera, Ballet mirror , fency

The Clutter Cat: Dandy Diary, Mellow moods

Aira : Artist in me

Anye: Zara Bathroom

ATS4: pot 4, pot 13, plant 16 Crafting room: dressform blouse, dressform male, dressform suit, folded fabrics, jar, paperstack, patterns, sewing machine

Harrie: Bafroom, brownstone, kichen

House of Harlix: Baysic, harluxe, brutalist, coastal, kwatei, octave, shop the look 2, spoons, Jardane, Livin Rum, Orjanic, tiny twavellers

Felix Andre: Berlin, Chateau, fayun, colonial, grove, kyoto, paris, shop the look

Brainstrip: my corner cc pack desk only

Charlypancakes: Munch, the lighthouse collection, miscellanea, modish, smol

Leori: Hipster loft

Illogical Sims: Home office

Kaiso: rustico living

Kate Emerald: Blissful baby Ottoman

Kiwisims4: Blockhouse hallway, Blockhouse Dining

Leaf Motif: Devon kitchen

Little Dica: Country side Cabin, Rise & Grind, sleek slumber

Madame Ria: Back to basics paint wall, Limber lumber

Madlen: Hiru misc set

Rusticsims: Mayaken, Modular life

Myls: Simple Clothes rack nordic

Mxims: LG

Myshunosun: Sol kitchen, Arrie Office, Gale dining, Lottie, Macaron kitchen, herbalist kitchen, tranquil bedroom

Peacemaker: Alesund, Hudson, Kitayama, Terra tiles horizontal/vertical, Vera Office

Pierisim: Coldbrew, David Apartment, Domain Du clos, MCM, Oak house, Tilable, unfold, Winter Garden

max20/maxsus: Poolside lounge pack

Sforzinda: Func EP02 Espressogrindomatic, espressoimpresso, cabin slats

sims4luxury: Mcgee&co Callhan rug

Sixam: Artz Living room, small spaces work from home, hotel bedroom, kessler kitchen, stylist wood livingroom, teen room

TaurusDesign: Eliza Bedroom, Elsa kids room

mycupofcc: Modernist

Tuds: 2ndWave, beam, cave, cross, wave

● DOWNLOAD Tray File and CC list: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: anrheya [previous name: applez] ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Youtube: Rheya28__

#sims 4 #thesims4 #ts4 #sims #showusyourbuilds #sims 4 cc #thesims #sims 4 builds #ts4 build #builds #build

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dickgraysonass · 24 days ago

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Shatter me in pieces

Batfam x reader part 2 season 2

Summary:after dieing in a robbery you find yourself in a strange place. Could this be heaven or perhaps…hell?

Tw: self harm? Neglect. Mental health.

Disclaimer: not proof read. not my art. I think its

Dan-mora on devientart, if it is them go check them out and show them some support. Also im not too sure about some of the lore on the tecnical and the knowledge of other characters so pls forgive and if there is anything i said wrong or incorrect feel free to tell me in the comments.

I love you all🕊️

A wave to sickness hits you hard ,your head feels like its jello and your mind is filled with foggyness.

Your eyes pry open yet it still feels like your eyes have been forced closed. You aren’t too sure if its because of the muck and gunk that somehow has piled onto the corners of your eyes or if it was actually glued.

Before you could think much futher something caught your sleepy eyed attention.

The celling? No. The walls. All of the walls where a soft pink color? From what you could see from your view the whole room looked like it was adorn in pink and other variable colors.

Everything from curtains,lamps and chairs to more. Color too similar to that awful shade of pink that complimented it very well. It looks straight out of a children’s commercial they would advertise dead afternoon but more messy and crowded,slightly similar to how you decorated your room when you were younger.

You try to stand up but your body seems to have plans to rest,stuck in a supine pose (laying down looking up).

You try one last time and manage to lift your right hand up a bit, nothing more. It probably wasn’t enough to get away from who ever or what ever had put you in this pink torture room for now rest was very needed. You didn’t realize how much energy you had actually used just to lift up your hand.

It was kinda pathetic, you would smirk to yourself if you could but your face remainder stoic. If anyone…anyone…if father saw you like this he would probably scoff at you.

Speaking of him, what happened end to them? Your mind rattled at what they could be doing right now.

Were they trying to find you? Did they caree for you? Who kidnapped you? Why did they kidnapped you and for what?

A soft exhale left your chapped lips. It was pointless anyways, they wouldn’t try and find you anyways.

It was up to you to get yourself out of here but for now a little rest us needed regain strength.

Your eyes fluttered back closed to its former state and as your mind drifted to sleep you just hope your kidnaper wouldn’t come back by the time you woke up.

Mist. Its very where , blocking your vision rendering you technically blind , unable to see more then 4 feet in front of you.

Your head flicks quickly to the side as at the corner of your eye you say something moving with the fog.

It looked vaguely human but not?

A audible swish passes right in-front of your head Snaps to that side where you saw it.

There it is again you say to yourself. It looked like a man from what you saw , a bit tall and lean.

It happens again but this this you are able to make out a familiar dark straight hair with tiny strands of gray hairs scatterings around the cranium.

“Father”? You called out , ever so softly. Your face scrunches up in a mix of shock,scared and a bit of disgust if you were being honest.

Why did he have to show up here. After everything he has done to!

He neglected me!

He ignored me!

And worst of all , i was the child that he never loved. It was always the Damien this. Dick that. Jason this and even Tim too!

Why couldn’t you be loved for once?

Were you really that unlovable?

Maybe Damien was right. You should of killed yourself long ago.

You were referring to a conversation that you and him had a while ago before the dinner.

Crying in your locked room , you sat quietly in the corner and crying your eyes out over a test. Your test in your hands and crumpled up completely stained with tear and scribbles of marker all over it.

It was kinda dumb now that think about it , it was only a 94 percent which was enough to get pass by with a nod from bruce.

Even tho you had a bit of training from bruce and dick You hadn’t heard Damien come into your room and stand in front of your form , towering over you intil you heard his snobby childish voice.

“Of course. only you are weak enough to cry over trivial thing.” he scoffed

You didn’t know why but you opened up to him as vulnerable as you were.

“ im sorry” you cried, your voice shaky and unstable “ i did Everything right. I studied for days to get a full score on this but even tho i tried my best i was only been able to get less them I anticipated.”

He face palmed audibly and pinched the bridge of his nose in disgust and disappointment.

“You will never get it will you”? He questioned.

Making you look up to him and utter confusion to his questions, stopping your cries leaving an annoying hiccups and sniffles.

“No matter how hard you try you will never be better then us in any form be it skills or academic. Im not even sure how my father got a hold of you but it was clear mistake. You clearly don’t belong with us or to be part of this prestige family”

Your blood shot eyes glaze over his striking emerald green eyes that seemed to pierce thru yours,full of pure hatred and disgust.

Your voice dry and horse manages to respond with a bombastic and confused “what”?

He spoke up,only getting more annoyed by the second.

“ i shouldn’t have to clarify. This is utterly stupid and meaningless like you. You aren’t even fathers real child, i was born be talent and resilient because i am fathers real offspring”.

“ you should even mention that, everyone in this house is family one way or another blood or not we are all equal” you spit back , slightly angry at his ignorance

“ its pathetic if you think we are all on the same level. I am better them every one here with the exception of father obviously”. He voice laced with malice and bad intentions

“ the only reason why you act like you are better then everyone is because you were breed to be the perfect heir, it not comparable to my situation ”!

He scoffs loudly , almost amused in a way.

“ you are only making more excuses for your sorry ass to hide behind”!he raise his voice but quickly restrains himself from going louder.

“ im not making any excuses”! your pain loud and shown. You stand up on your shaking legs that had fallen asleep way before the argument. You use one of your arms as support against the wall while point at him with the other other one . Straight. at .him . which seemed to aggravate him even more.

“You don’t get to talk! I have never made excuses up! Never when i had to pull all nighter and especially never when i begged for fathers approval or when i tried to train to be( emphasis on that word) what he originally wanted me to be. A robin and partner”. You voice faded at the last word . A partner you could of been to him. a daughter.

“I can not fathom you being a robin . You would of been worse then Grayson”. He smirked “The name would of been tarnished and with that reputation i would of never wanted to be the robin. My mothe-” you stop his gloating. The more he speak the more anger and pitiful you become. You can’t stand him being in your room , criticizing you for trying yours best so you end it quickly. You are so done with his entitled bs.

“just becuase you get to grown up in a place where everyone adore you doesn’t mean you get to act like you own this place. I didnt! Even tho i have been here longer then you i still need to prove myself!” Your voice shakes in a sign of weakness. Your are too close to crying to keep talking. Its ahed enough to stop yourself from shedding more tears in front of him and talking would probably break you even more.

You did need that right now.

“ you have all the blame. you said it yourself , you have been here longer but who is the forgotten one. Im still appalled father even liked you enough to take you in.” and with that he leaves, his comments hanging in the air as you stood there, dumb founded.

His voice so momotoned compared to his hurtful comments.

He spat venom and it seemed to seep into your vain, intoxicating you. Drowning you in a sorrow that now was infecting you quicker then you had hoped.

As his body slithered out of the room like a conniving snake with quickness. he turn one last time to you with his green emerald eyes.

“ and make sure to clean the blood of your neck. Its an awful sign to see if you aren’t go thru with it.”

The door slammed shut as like clock work your back slide down against the wall, landing on the floor with force.

Shirt. You cursed at yourself. Instinctively your hand went to the aprt of your neck whoch had tried. Blood on it.

You had completely forgot about when the argument happend .

Your hand losses snd a tiny sharp piece of metal dropped onto the wooden floor.

You didnt even have to look down at the state of your hand. It was eveident in the exesive amount of bloood that was drooping on the side and the theobbing feeling in your hand.

It was like a mini heart beat right on the palm of your hand, resdy to be crushed.

Damn Damien. Why did it have to be him to come. Why couslnr it be some one like dick or tim.

Forgotten…

Those where the words that stuck with you the most. It was pointless arguing because he was simply right. He is always right.

That night you cried and cried your poor little heart out until you couldn’t anymore. You learned that no matter how much you tried you would never be better then Damien… but you sure could try. If you couldn’t get his attention by education then something else could. What if you saved a life ? Would that be good enough.

You bolted awake , standing up right. You breathing was labored and quick . it felt like you had just run a marathom not incldue how fast your heart was beaking , you swore you could feel it trying to escape from body, banging on your ribcage for exit.

Water. You needed water .Your mouth was dry, really dry.

You could barely speak before a glass of water magically apeaired infront of you. Taking it without any question you drank it all with aggressiveness. So aggresive infact that some of the water spilled on you b it yiu didnt care, only to clech the throst in your blood.

“ whoa whoa, someone is thirsty” you heard a soft chuckle aling with it.

It sounded so familiar…so similar to…

You head grappled to the your side where a short haired woman sat.

“ catwoman?”

An:

Hi !!! How are you guys , i hope you see having a great day and in good health. I just wanted some feed back to see what direction you guys want the story to take. Tho i do have a general outline i would just like suggestions. Bye love you guys!!!

#batman #damien wayne #batfam #plotonic?#batfam x reader #fandoms #batman x reader #batfam x neglected reader #dickgrayson x reader #jason todd x reader #reader x damien wayne #tim drake x reader #cat woman #selina kyle

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cloudcountry · 2 months ago

Text

SUMMARY: you make sure caldarus is comfortable during a snowy day.

COMMENTS: for the dragon lovers. i hear you. @xxoomiii you asked to be tagged so here you are my wifey!!

Caldarus stands faithfully at the entrance to your farm, as tall and rigid and stoney as always. He’s awkward but it hardly shows, feeling the tendrils of sleep creep into his brain while knowing he will never truly be asleep.

Ironically enough, he will also never truly be awake.

He will forever be unaware of what led him to becoming nothing but a humble lawn ornament on your lawn, surrounded by the stone furniture you collected from the museum, placed to create a happier space around him. He is thankful for the gesture, yet another act of kindness he owes you for, even though he claims not to need it. It’s people like you who make the world turn. It is people like you who change the world. Caldarus knows that.

The lights in your house are on. The sheet of snowflakes makes the light seem fuzzy, and the wind is steadily growing stronger, but the warm glow of your presence does not fade. For some reason, he finds it difficult to take his eyes away from it. In all the years you’ve been here (what was it now, four? five?) he’s never felt this way. It puzzles him, like an ancient riddle or a new device humans created to keep up with the times.

People like you are always doing better, scrambling for a perfection that doesn’t exist. It’s as admirable as it is foolish.

He hears the door to your house open, and he’s certain his ears would have perked up had they not been stones. He can’t move his head but that doesn’t stop the instinctual urge to turn his neck, to see you, to catch even a single glimpse of what you were doing.

He’s thankful when you appear in the corner of his vision, making your way past the stone lamps and onto the giant stone pathway you put in front of his statue, a sign of respect for him and a testament to your hard work keeping the weeds and debris away from him.

“Hi Caldarus. I made you something.” you smile, and it’s only then that he notices the multicolored bundle in your arms.

“Oh?” he inquires, “What is it?”

You unfurl the bundle with a flick of your wrists, revealing a tapestry of some sort. Caldarus stares warily as you clamber onto his pedestal, positioning your body directly in front of him as you spread the colorful sheet over his body.

“A blanket?” he asks incredulously, a deep chuckle rumbling through his stone maw, “I told you, I have no need for such things. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to.” you say sternly, adjusting the blanket so it fits over his back, tucking it around his shoulders securely, “Comfort is a luxury and you deserve it.”

He wishes he had something to say to that. Something witty, or something wise, or something to ignore the way something inside him melts, warm and heavy and thick. It sinks into every atom of his being, and although he isn’t breathing (he hasn’t done so properly since he was turned to stone) and feels his chest shudder.

Oh.

You step back and admire your handiwork, your warm hand gentle against his cold cheek. Your mouth is moving but he can’t hear the words you’re saying, his ears are too busy ringing and his eyes are flicking between you and the tips of the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“You look cozy.” is what he hears you say, and you laugh so sweetly it sends his heart ablaze.

How could he be such a fool?

All that time he spent watching you tend to your crops, all that encouragement he offered you when you helped out the town, all of the snippets of your conversations he overheard, all of his yearning to retain that information if nothing else—

It was love.

“Thank you.” he says, voice gravelly with gratitude.

You perk up at his thanks and pat his snout, jumping off his pedestal and landing gracefully on the snow in front of him.

“Reckless.” he tuts, because what if you sprained an ankle or broke a leg, humans are so fragile and he is in no position to take care of you.

“I’ll be okay Calda. You know that.” you salute, going on your merry way with a promise to be back before nine and to sit with him until midnight.

For the first time, Caldarus feels impatient for your return.

#auburn's fics <3 #auburn in mistria <3 #fom caldarus #fom caldarus x reader #fields of mistria #fields of mistria x reader #fields of mistria caldarus #fields of mistria caldarus x reader #caldarus x reader #gn reader

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livelaughlovesubs · 2 months ago

Note

Hi hello! Delicos Nursery has me in a headlock nowCan you please do "mocking for involuntary reactions" and "ruining a part of their body they take pride in" (hair most likely) for Gerhard for the prompt event?

Love how we are all shaken by the pretty men (Gerhard) in delico’s nursery. It’s so rare to see the focus be on hot men. Btw my friend pointed out how its easy to mistype his name into gethard

Dom!Reader x sub!gerhard (?)

Warning: mean reader, stepping, dacryphilia, teasing, (tell me if I forgot smt, cuz I feel like I did)

Anniversary event

You sat down on the emergency stairs of one of the buildings, humming to yourself, waiting for the plan to unfold by itself. “Five more seconds, and he should be here.” That’s what the plan suggested anyway. In the meantime you scanned your surroundings. It was disgustingly filthy, absolutely immortal. Yet, the sound of water dripping into small puddles from pipes and roofs was weirdly calming.

As soon as you started doubting the script, the heavy breathing of an entity reached your ears, the person was getting closer to you. When they turned around the corner they stepped into one of the small puddles with their heels, making the water splash around. It was dark, since it was in the middle of the night. Based on your assumptions, you’d say they haven’t noticed you, you’ve been hidden well behind the shadows after all.

The old street lamp barely illuminated this dirt poor corner of the city, though the moonlight did. You could make out the outlines of the person, they were a tall individual with long, shiny golden hair that reflected the light of the moon. It swayed with their every move, and it seemed to have been meticulously tied up. The efforts didn’t go unnoticed, because you had to admit, their locks were beautiful.

Without making a single sound, you waited, waiting until they’ve come close enough. Their appearance emerged from the darkness, the bright moonlight helped in exposing their identity, it was your target, Gerhard Fra. A pretty important person, someone useful to your little terrorist group. With a swift move, you jumped and landed behind him, kicking him to the ground before he could react. “What- arrrggg..?!!” He yelped, clutching his sword tightly before pathetically trying to swing it at you.

It wasn’t difficult to dodge it, and you easily disarmed him while you were at it, kicking the weapon out of his hands before stepping on the body part. “UrgHHh!! You- you are a one of the pendulums aren’t you?” Gerhard groaned, gritting his teeth at the pain. He clawed at the floor with his free hand, trying to push himself up but to no avail. “Yep, that’s me.” You answered nonchalantly, there was no reason for you to hide your identity, in fact, you’ve been waiting to introduce yourself to him.

His clean white pants have been soaked now, alongside his refined uniform, but these things didn’t seem to bother him. Rather, he tried to gain some kind of information out of you, yelling through the streets, “who are you? And what are your motives?” A sense of anger became the fundaments of his voice, he turned his head over his shoulder, staring right at you. He tried to etch your looks into his brain to the best of his ability.

“These things aren’t that important.” You mumbled, and reached out for his high ponytail, wrapping your hand around the base of it. He tied his hair very tightly, and thoroughly, he definitely invests a lot of time into his golden locks. “Why don’t you tell me about you instead?” The male glared at you, and his feisty reaction was met with you yanking on his hair, making him arch his back at the strength you used and whine involuntarily, “aahHh…!”

“Oh? What a nice reaction there.” He shuddered at your teasing comment and bit his bottom lip when you sat down on his back, pressing him down with your weight. “Can I hear it once more?” You asked a rhetorical question, smirking as you did, pulling on his hair once again. It had the same outcome as before, with him whimpering into the depths of the alley, ordering you around as a last resort, “hnngg! S-stop it this instand!”

Your laughter bounced off the walls, making him feel humiliated. “You can’t even control yourself in front of the enemy, stuttering like that. As if I’d listen to you.” Honestly, you wanted him to get off his high horse. Did he really believe you’d obey his commands considering the position you two were in? “God, this is so much fun, your attitude’s almost cute! Haha~!” A sense of shame flashed across his eyes, his cheeks had a rosy taint to them, he was blushing.

After glancing around for a bit, you saw his sword lying in the mud. An idea crossed your mind, so you took hold of his weapon, bringing it closer to him. Though, you didn’t rest it against his throat as he feared, instead you held it above his ponytail. “Hey Gerhard, your hair’s so long. How long did it take you to grow it out?” The male gulped, dreadful about the fact you knew his name. “Why are you asking?” Gerhard scoffed, still not over his fury.

You shrugged, acting unbothered before you rubbed the sharp edge of his sword against his bush of hair. “I guess your hair’s not that important to you after all, so I can cut it, right?” His eyes widened, mouth agape as he tried to talk you out of it, “w-what does cutting my hair matter?! I wouldn’t tell you anything neither way!” When your eyes met, he felt a shiver run down his spine, that look you bore told him you weren’t doing it out of a logical standpoint, it was for your own satisfaction.

“I knew you would never tell me anything about the true of vamp, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Your statement was immediately met with his protest, “then.. you don’t need to do something unnecessary!” You smiled at him, shaking your head at his words, “it’s not unnecessary. You like your hair don’t ya? So, it’s an emotional attack.” The vampire clenched his teeth, sweating as he was in pure disbelief. He couldn’t find the right words to convince you.

Then you yanked on it one last time, before using his sword to cut the ponytail off. “No- Stop! Wait!” Gerhard shouted when he noticed the tight knot he did disappear, he tried to stand up again, to push you off him, but it just didn’t work. “Hmm? What did you say~?” you giggled, finding his desperate expression’s fun. “I-, p-please don’t..” he whispered breathlessly, pulling a pitiful grimace. This was the last thing he wanted to do, to beg his enemy, but he really hated the thought of losing his hair.

You stopped for a second, then said, “so you do know how to ask politely, but isn’t it a bit late now?” In that moment, at last, you did the last cut, now holding this batch of blond locks in your hand and shaking it around before dropping it like some waste. It was no longer connected to his head, but laying around in the dirty mud. “Ah..” He whined in surprise, his hair only went to his ears now, and it framed his face messily. His eyes shrunk, pupils shaking visibly, one look and you could tell he was devastated.

“Come now, don’t act like I killed your friend or something.” You sighed, showing him fake pity. That’s when you noticed his eyes getting moist, with what you assumed to be tears. “Huh, ya’ crying?” This time, you were genuinely shocked, staring at him who was hiding his face from you. “Shut up… I’ll kill you-” He threatened, but you interrupted him, “oh you are definitely crying!” Damn it, why did you have to keep humiliate him?

Once again your unrestrained laughter echoed through the alley, you could barely contain yourself as you mocked him, “Haha~ your new haircut doesn’t look half bad, you know? Don’t worry too much, you still have your pretty face, I’ll save that one for our next meeting.”

With that, you escaped from the crime scene, leaving his frozen state behind to take care of the mess.

#sub character #sub!character #dom reader #dom!reader #delico's nursery #delicos nursery #gerhard fra #Gerhard x Reader #Gerhard x y/n #Gerhard x you #Gerhard fra delicos nursery #sub Gerhard #anniversary event

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nahoney22 · 5 months ago

Text

In the Shadows*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Crosshair X AU Princess F!Reader

word count: 8.8k words

prompts:

• “When can I see you again?” / “Do you want to?”

• “I’ll be everything you ever wanted. I’ll do anything you’ve ever desired.”

Having Clone Force 99 protect you felt like an honour; falling for one of them was a curse.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, Smut, Royalty/Princess Trope, AU, First time, virgin reader, Flirty/Explicit Massages, Second Guessing, Cunnilingus, Blowjob, Soft and Rough Sex, P in V Sex, Doggy style, missionary, cowgirl positions Explicit Sexual Content & Language, aftercare, nipple play, Forbidden Love/Relationship, light angst.

Being royalty definitely had its perks. Yet, the things you most wanted in life were often just out of reach. Freedom was one of them. With guards always monitoring you, you were rarely alone. You were surprised that nobody was stationed in your bed chamber when you slept but you were grateful for the latter.

Oh, and there was also the constant threat to your life. A downside that came with the crown.

So that means that every week, your family contacted the Grand Army of the Republic to hire a battalion of soldiers to test their skills. A group would stay and, as you put it, ‘babysit’ you. This week was no different.

You sat outside in the expansive gardens, a sanctuary of serenity and the only time you felt a small sense of freedom. Vibrant flowers of every hue bloomed in meticulous arrangements by the hired garden hands. Tall hedges formed intricate mazes which had been around since you were young, and a grand fountain with crystal-clear water added a soothing soundtrack to the peace.

As you basked outside alone in your thoughts, you noticed four tall, armoured soldiers approaching. You squinted against the sun, using your hand to shield your eyes. “I thought they said they were clones…” you murmured to yourself.

And they were. Just different.

There was Hunter, the leader. He spoke directly but had a kindness in his eyes that set you at ease. Wrecker was tall and intimidating at first glance, but his loud voice was tempered by his kind heart and Tech intrigued you with his constant stream of information.

Then there was Crosshair.

He was different.

Every time you looked his way (to which you had even caught yourself watching and almost being enamoured by him on several occasions), you noticed several things. One of them being that he moved with a lethal grace. His eyes are always scanning, calculating; never certain what is on his mind. His presence was both unsettling and somehow captivating even if his company was less than comforting at times.

However every time Crosshair’s eyes had met yours for a brief moment, his gaze was intense. As if he could see through the layers of your royal facade. It was a look that made you feel exposed and protected all at once. A paradox you couldn’t quite understand. Did he know you were lonely? Was he lonely?

Throughout the week, each clone took a shift to watch over you. You were surprised to see that most of them enjoyed striking up conversations, which made the constant supervision more tolerable.

All except for Crosshair.

Despite his silence, Crosshair was the one you always looked forward to being alone with. His shift came in the evenings, just after Wrecker’s. Most evenings, you spent your time in the library, surrounded by towering bookshelves filled with ancient tomes about your family’s history. The room was a haven of knowledge, illuminated by the soft, golden glow of ornate lamps. The scent of old flimsi and polished wood filled the air, a comforting presence in your otherwise restrictive life. It was definitely your favourite room within your home.

As you sat on a deep emerald couch, nestled in the corner by the large window that overlooked the gardens, you often stole glances at Crosshair. He stood in the shadows, his posture rigid, eyes constantly scanning the room like a suited knight in armour. And each time you looked at him, his piercing gaze met yours, unwavering and intense as usual.

“You’re quiet today, Crosshair,” you said one evening, possibly the second night, setting down your book and reclining on the plush golden cushions.

He turned his head slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “I am always quiet.”

You rolled your eyes, noting that he hadn’t caught your sarcastic tone, but you smiled nonetheless. “Too quiet. Won’t you sit with me?”

He stiffened, a slight tension visible in his stance. “I am on duty.”

“It’s 2100 hours. I doubt anyone will interrupt us.” Your voice carried a hint of unintended flirtation, and you noticed his brow raise slightly, his fingers drumming along the stock of his rifle.

“I doubt it too, but regardless, I am on duty, Princess.”

The way he said ‘princess’ was different from anyone else. There was a playful edge to his tone that made your stomach flutter, and you felt a warm prickle spread across your skin.

You pursed your lips, pondering. “Why do you not talk as much as the others?”

He blinked, his expression remaining stoic, before shrugging slightly. “I usually don’t have much worthwhile to say.”

“No stories? No grand explanation on why you shouldn’t do x, y, and z with some shuttles compared to others?” you teased, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

He chuckled and for some reason you gathered that it was a rare sound. It sent a shiver down your spine and even made your cheeks warm. The sight of his smirk was also unexpectedly captivating. “You have been talking too much to Tech.”

“I think it’s Tech talking too much to me,” you replied with a grin.

Crosshair’s eyes softened slightly, and for a moment, the stoic mask he wore seemed to crack. Each night on duty, you seemed to chip away at that mask, revealing glimpses of the man beneath the soldier.

It was on the sixth evening that a significant shift occurred between you and Crosshair. As usual, you were in the library when he entered. Instead of positioning himself in his usual corner, you were present surprised as he stood closer, practically next to the couch you were cosied up on.

You smiled up at him. “Want to sit?” you asked, patting the spot beside you.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” he stated, though it didn’t sound like a flat refusal.

You licked your teeth thoughtfully, your eyes tracing his tall, lean form. Tilting your head to the side, you continued, “But you want to be near me.”

“I am always near you.”

“But tonight you’re closer than before,” you countered, noting the coy smile that played on his lips.

He shifted slightly. “I thought you’d appreciate talking to me as I stand next to you rather than across the room.”

You moved closer to the edge of the couch, turning your body towards him. Your dress rode up a little, exposing more of your leg, and you batted your eyelashes at him. “And now you are too tall and hurting my neck. Please?” you asked, patting the spot beside you once more.

You saw him close his eyes briefly, a soft sigh escaping his lips before he leaned his rifle against the wall and sat beside you. He leaned forward, hands clasped together, and for the first time, he appeared nervous.

“So, how was your day?” you asked cheerfully. Crosshair wanted to roll his eyes but held back, mindful of the respect due to your royal status.

To Crosshair, it felt strange—almost surreal—that someone of your stature would ask about his day. He had always been told that himself and his brothers, even the regs, were bred for war. Viewed nothing more expendable tools of the Republic. He had always been surrounded by Jedi, Generals and Commanders who saw him as just another operative, valued for his skills but not for his individuality. That’s it.

He glanced at you, your eager eyes waiting for his response. “Routine,” he said after a moment. “Same as usual. And yours?”

Your eyes sparkled with interest. “Busy, as always. Meetings, formal dinners, and endless discussions about diplomacy.” You paused, your eyes softening. “It’s refreshing to talk about something different for a change.”

Crosshair studied you, noting the way your shoulders relaxed and the genuine smile on your lips. He found himself rather intrigued by your openness. “I suppose our routines are different,” he grunts.

You nodded. “They are, but I imagine both come with their own set of challenges.”

He allowed himself a small smile. “You could say that.”

There was a comfortable silence as you both sat there, the warmth of the fire casting a gentle glow over the room. Crosshair found himself unexpectedly at ease.

“So,” you began, breaking the silence after a few minutes, “tell me something about yourself that I wouldn’t know.”

Crosshair raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “There isn’t much to tell. I’m a soldier. That’s all I’ve ever been.”

You leaned closer, your curiosity evident. “Surely there’s more to you than that. What about before the war? Any hobbies? Interests?”

He hesitated, then said, “I used to enjoy marksmanship drills. It was... calming. A way to focus.”

You smiled. “I can see that. It suits you.”

As the conversation continued, Crosshair began to open up more, the initial awkwardness fading. For the first time, he felt seen—not as a clone, but as an individual. It was only small but there was a significant shift.

Perhaps a deeper feeling was emerging after all these late night talks.

After a while, you shifted slightly, your dress slipping higher up your leg. You didn’t notice at first but when you turn to look back at Crosshair, his gaze was lingering there. You say nothing at first, feeling a heat grow in your stomach as you watch how his eyes darken - just for a moment - before he quickly looked away.

A playful idea crossed your mind, and you decided to test the waters.

“Crosshair,” you said softly, leaning in a little closer, “would you give me a massage? My legs are terribly sore from all the formal events.”

His eyes widened slightly, and you saw the conflict in his expression. He clearly wanted to, but his sense of duty held him back. “I... I can’t,” he said, his voice strained. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Please?” you asked once more, your voice a soft purr as you looked up at him through your lashes.

He swallowed hard, his resolve visibly weakening. “Princess, I am on duty,” he said, though his voice was huskier now, betraying his inner struggle. “And it would be dishonorable. I... I can’t.”

You pouted playfully, but inside, you admired his steadfastness, even if it meant denying something you both wanted. “Ever the soldier,” you murmured, leaning back and giving him a small, understanding smile.

Crosshair’s eyes lingered on you a moment longer, briefly scanning your plump and soft lips that he found himself foolishly wanting to kiss before he tore his gaze away, his hands clenched together as if to keep them from reaching out to you. The tension in the room was palpable, a mix of unspoken desire and restrained propriety. It was a delicate balance, one that both thrilled and really frustrated you.

You were awakening a side of him he kept buried, and in return, he was stirring emotions within you that you had long suppressed. After all, how often was it you were with another man who wasn’t a guard unchaperoned? You definitely never had feelings towards any of them but to you? He was beautiful. With Crosshair, you felt normal, something you had always yearned for in the rigid constraints of being royalty. But he ignited another, more primal desire within you—lust.

The way his eyes lingered on you, dark and intense that you found yourself burning up under his gaze. It was clear he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

Yet, the cruel reality was that tomorrow would be the last night. Would you ever even see him again?

It seemed as though he could read your mind. Clearing his throat, he turned his body towards you, the intensity of his eyes making your pulse quicken. “Do you still require a massage?” he asked, watching you closely. Your fingers had been absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair for the last few minutes, a normal habit that seemed to make his heart rate pound.

“Please don’t feel obliged to do that for me just because I asked,” you reassured him, your voice soft. “I only asked because...” you trailed off, your thoughts a chaotic mix of emotions you couldn’t entirely decipher.

“Because you like me,” he said boldly, a spark of confidence in his eyes. You watched in silent awe as he deftly pulled something from a pouch in his armor—a toothpick. He placed it between his lips with a casual and almsot suave ease.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. “I value you, yes,” you managed to say, your voice betraying your nerves. But then you met his gaze once more, and a surge of courage flared within you. “And I think you would like to give me a massage,” you continued, a smirk curling at the corners of your lips.

Crosshair’s eyes darkened, the toothpick shifting slightly as he bit down on it. “Is that so?” he murmured.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “I think you want to touch me.”

He inhaled sharply, the tension between you palpable. “You’re playing with fire, Princess,” he warned, but his words lacked conviction, his eyes betraying his desire.

“Maybe,” you teased, leaning closer, your leg now brushing against his. “But it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Are you?”

For a moment, he hesitated, the internal struggle evident in his eyes. Then, with a resigned sigh, he placed his hand gently on your calf, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. “I suppose one massage wouldn’t hurt,” he murmured, his voice husky.

You smiled, your pulse quickening as his fingers began to knead the tension from your muscles. “Good,” you whispered, your voice laced with anticipation as you leaned back, relaxing.

Crosshair’s eyes followed the path of his hands as they moved up your calf, his breath hitching as you let out a soft moan of pleasure. His fingers were firm and skillful, each touch sending ripples of sensation through your body. You didn't hold back, your moans growing louder, each one making his arousal more evident. His pants felt increasingly tight, the bulge in them unmistakable.

“You’re making it hard to concentrate, Princess,” he murmured, his voice strained with desire.

“I can only apologise,” you replied, your voice breathy as you reveled in the feel of his hands on you. “I’m just showing you what you do to me.”

His hands moved higher, massaging your knee before traveling up your thigh. Your dress rode up further, and he paused, his eyes locked on the exposed skin. He bit down on his toothpick, his restraint hanging by a thread.

You open your eyes only to find yourself biting your lip as you watch as he slips his hands free from his gloves, laying them over the arm of the couch before his fingers start to knead at your calf. His touch is firm yet careful, his fingers working the tension from your muscles with practiced ease. You let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the couch, your eyes fluttering closed.

“This is a dangerous game we’re playing, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “You know this is breaking every rule.”

“And yet here you are,” you reply, a playful lilt in your voice. “Breaking them with me.”

He smirks, his hands moving up to your knee, massaging in slow, deliberate circles. “It seems I can’t help myself,” he admits, his eyes blown. “You’re... quite persuasive.”

You arch an eyebrow, feeling a thrill of power at his words. “Am I now? I merely asked you the once” you tease, shifting slightly to allow his hands better access.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hands continue their upward journey, fingers brushing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You feel a rush of heat as he inches closer to the apex of your legs, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he whispers softly, his hands moving higher, and you hold your gasp as you realise how dangerously close he was to your… intimate area. Every nerve ending in your body is awakened by his touch.

"And you're enjoying it," you whisper back, your voice husky with need.

Stars, what kind of hold did he have on you? You were royalty, trained all your life to be reserved and appropriate, yet here you were, parting your legs to give him silent permission to continue. The boldness of your action sends a thrill through you, a heady mix of fear and excitement that makes your heart race.

His hands pause for a moment, his gaze flicking to meet yours. It is obvious you are exposed to him now as his eyes drop between your legs, his hand moving your dress just enough to touch. He lets out a soft moan, the sound making you inevitably clench. Your silk panties, enticing and damp with arousal, has him stopping in his tracks.

It's his turn to bite his lip, almost snapping the toothpick in his mouth as his fingers flex, eager to reach out and brush against you. The sight of his struggle, the raw want in his eyes, sends a fresh wave of heat through you. But then, he closes his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. "Tell me to stop."

His resolve is being rebuilt, a fortress against the growing storm of his desire. Despite the desperation coursing through your veins, you do as he pleads. "You can stop."

Despite your words, it takes him a moment or two to retract his hand, pulling your dress back down slowly to restore your dignity. "I'm sorry, Princess."

There's guilt on his face, and your heart sinks. You pull your legs back away from him and sit forward, gently taking his hand. "You have no reason to apologise. I... I should have realised this was foolish." You scold yourself, closing your eyes tightly. "I do not want to compromise your position."

"My position?" he snaps at you, causing you to flinch slightly. The regret in his gaze is immediate. "What about you? You're the Princess. If I got caught with you you'd be ruined." His tone softens as he continues, the anger melting into concern.

The air between you is thick with unspoken desires, the weight of what could have been pressing down on both of you. Crosshair's hand remains in yours, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he's holding on to the last shred of his self-control. His eyes, filled with a mix of longing and frustration, meet yours.

"Princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, "this is going to be forward but I've never wanted anything more in my life. But I can't... I can't risk you."

You nod, your throat tightening. "I understand. But just for tonight, can we forget who we are? Just be two people, enjoying each other's company?"

His eyes search yours, and after a moment, he nods slowly. "Just for tonight."

Saying goodbye to Crosshair was inevitable, but it was the last thing you wanted to do. You had already said your farewells to the others, and now it was just Crosshair’s turn.

The two of you didn’t speak of what had happened the night before, yet the tension between you lingered in the air, thick and palpable. As usual, after your time spent in the library, he escorted you back to your bedchambers. This time, though, the walk was slower, each step a heavy reminder of what was about to end.

Neither of you said anything as your door came into view. You stopped, and Crosshair halted just a few steps beside you, the silence stretching painfully.

“When can I see you again?” you whispered, not daring to look in his direction. You heard him take a small step closer, his gaze boring into the back of your head, his presence a comforting shadow.

“Do you want to?”

“Of course I do,” you said, exasperated, finally finding the strength to look at him. “I don’t even want to say goodbye.”

Crosshair bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing. “You will have a new set of clones sent next week… you may form a bond with one of them too.”

Ouch. “W-Why are you saying that?”

He sighed and took your arm gently, guiding you into a shadowed corner away from any prying eyes or ears. His touch was firm yet tender, sending shivers down your spine. “I think you’re lonely, Princess… and I was just a distraction.”

Your eyes welled up, tears threatening to spill. Crosshair had never hated a sight more. “No, Crosshair, you weren’t just a distraction for me. I…”

“What?” he probed swiftly, his body almost pressed against yours as your back met the wall, the heat radiating from him almost too much to bear.

You searched his eyes, your lips parting as you subtly inhaled his scent, memorizing his gaze, for possibly the last time. “I think you already know.”

Crosshair was silent, not a rarity, but you could see the emotions flashing across his face. He took your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips, his breath warm and tantalizing. “I know.”

The moment hung heavy between you, charged with unspoken words and suppressed desires. His lips lingered on your skin, the gentle pressure sending a thrill through you. Your heart pounded in your chest as his hand slid up your arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His other hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Crying over me, Princess?”

You leaned into his touch, a soft but sad smile granted at his words. “Just a little.”

Closing your eyes briefly, you savoured the feeling of his touch. When you opened them again, his face was inches from yours, his breath dancing with your own.

Your lips parted slightly, an invitation that he hesitated to accept. His eyes darted to your mouth, his resolve crumbling as he leaned in, the pull between you undeniable. Just as his lips were about to claim yours, you felt the weight of reality crashing down.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “This is too much.”

You pulled back, the pain of the separation cutting deep. Crosshair's hand dropped to his side, his expression a mix of longing and resignation.

“Goodbye, Crosshair,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, stepping back to give you space. “Goodbye, Princess.”

With a heavy heart, you turned and entered your bedchamber without another word. Honestly, you had never hated being a Princess more than ever before.

“Is there something wrong, my lady?”

You stood staring at yourself in the mirror for, well, you weren’t sure how long but it was long enough to raise concerns. Your handmaiden had just assisted you with getting dressed in your nightwear—a beautiful soft nightdress of the finest silk, the fabric a delicate shade of ivory. It flowed gracefully over your form, hugging your curves subtly, with intricate lace detailing along the neckline and hem and stopped just above your knees.

Your hands played with the fabric and you can’t help but wonder what it’d feel like to have his hands on you. It’d be inappropriate for anyone to see you in a state of undress but you got the warm feeling in your gut that he would undress you even further.

You sigh softly to yourself, Crosshair replaying in your mind on a constant loop. His touch from the massage, his words, the intensity of the almost-kiss—it all haunted you, refusing to let you rest. You barely noticed your handmaiden’s presence until she laid a gentle hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Would you like me to get someone for you?” she asked softly, her concern evident in her eyes.

You turned to her, the turmoil of your emotions barely concealed. “No, thank you. I’m just… distracted, I suppose.”

“Is there anything I can do to help, my lady?”

You remain tight lipped, glancing back at your reflection. The nightdress, so elegant and pure, seemed almost a mockery of the confusion and desire within you. “No, it’s something I need to work through on my own.”

She nodded, stepping back respectfully. “Of course, my lady. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you,” you said, offering her a small, grateful smile. “That will be all for tonight.”

With a curtsy, she left you alone in your chambers, the silence and stillness pressing in around you. You moved to your bed, the cool sheets an almost embarrassing contrast to the heat of your thoughts.

For an hour, you tossed and turned, staring at the canopy above your head. Frustration clawed at you, and at one point, you grabbed your pillow, pressing it over your face and screaming into it to release the pent-up emotions.

Just as exhaustion began to tug at you, a faint tap at the door leading to the balcony broke through the haze of near-sleep. You squinted into the darkness, unsure if you were hearing things, but the tap came again, as if a pebble was being thrown at it.

Instinctively, you would have called out for a guard, alerting them to a possible threat. But something in your gut told you not to. Trusting that intuition, you crawled out of bed, grabbing a gown and draping it over your nightdress.

As you opened the door to your balcony, you hesitated for a moment but you threw caution to the wind and wanted to see for yourself. You stepped out onto the balcony, the cool stone beneath your bare feet grounding you. At first you saw nothing but then, you spotted him.

Below, emerging from the shadows, stood Crosshair. “Crosshair? W-What’re you doing here?” you whisper-shouted down to him, checking the coast was clear.

“Honestly? I don’t know. Hunter is going to kill me and possibly your family, but I had to see you,” he replied, his eyes scanning the area too for any signs of danger.

Your heart swelled, and your eyes twinkled with raw emotion. “Am I really worth that risk?”

“For you?” He chuckled softly, his voice carrying a warmth that made your heart flutter. “Anything.”

Without another thought, you motioned for him to come up. Crosshair scaled the trellis with practiced ease, and within moments, he stood before you on the balcony, his tall form casting a shadow in the moonlight.

The tension from earlier, the unspoken words and desires, hung thick in the air. You stepped closer to him, your hand reaching out to touch his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “You came back.”

He nodded. You can tell he wasn’t used to showing such affection as his hand, shaking, lays over the top of yours that was against his chest, holding it closer to his heart. “I couldn’t stay away it seems.l

The intensity in his eyes made your knees weak. “What if we’re caught?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t care,” he said, his tone fierce yet tender. “I’d rather face the consequences than spend another night without you.”

Without saying another word, your lips met in a frenzy of raw passion and need.

He guided you back into the room, not once parting his lips from yours, and shut the door to the balcony behind him.

His hands took refuge on your hips, pulling you closer as he met your gaze briefly, as if to reassure himself that you were real, before he kissed you again with renewed hunger.

You groaned into his embrace, your body flush against his as the moonlight danced through the cracks in your curtains, casting a silvery glow over your entwined forms. With a soft sigh, you let your tongue run against his bottom lip, and his knees almost buckled at the sensation.

He allowed you access, and your tongues swirled and danced together. Your hands roamed up and down his body, only now realising he wore no armour, just his long black one-piece that most clones wore underneath. This allowed you to feel his slender, toned figure beneath your fingers, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric.

“Like what you feel?” he rasped against your mouth as you moaned at the mere touch of him.

“Very much so,” you smiled, both of you pulling away for a much-needed breath.

His eyes roamed your figure, a smirk on his lips and in his eyes. “It feels wrong of me to see you dressed this way,” he muttered, pinching the fabric of your nightdress between his fingers softly. “You look so innocent.”

“Are you saying I didn’t look that way before?” you hummed, a teasing lilt to your voice.

“I suppose you did,” he started before he leans in, his lips trailing down to your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake, “but your mind isn’t so pure.”

A shiver ran down your spine as his mouth worked its way along your neck, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses that sent jolts of pleasure coursing through you. He nipped at your skin, sucking and leaving marks that would remind you of this night. Then, his hand slipped under your nightdress, the cool touch of his fingers against your heated skin making you gasp.

“You like that?” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and gravelly. “You like feeling my hands on you, knowing you’re mine right now, Princess?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your hands gripping his shoulders as his fingers squeezed your arse, pulling you even closer. You could feel his erection straining against his pants, the hard length pressing into you.

You could feel yourself dampen, your pussy throbbing with a desperate need to be met. “Take me to my bed.”

“As you command.” He wasted no time in lifting you up, carrying you across the threshold before laying you down in the middle of the bed. He leaned over, grabbed a pillow to tuck under your head, then crawled over the top of you, claiming your lips once more.

You moaned his name into his mouth, your leg hooking around his waist and bringing him flush to you. You couldn’t help the way your hips ground against his thigh, the friction making you gasp against his lips. “Tell me what you want, beautiful.” He cupped your jaw, his tongue hot and trailing over your lips with teasing flicks. “I’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted. I’ll do anything you’ve ever desired.”

You closed your eyes and let out a breathless sigh. “Do what you wanted to do to me in the library.”

He pulled back, tilting his head down at you. “Tell me first, Princess,” his tone soft, “have you done this before?”

You swallowed and nervously shook your head. “No. But I want to.” You replied, reaching your hand up and touching his cheek, tracing your thumb across the bottom of his tattoo. “With you.”

A cocky and satisfied smile spread across his lips, his fingers slipping under the hem of your nightdress and moving up your thighs.

You trembled beneath his touch as he bunched the fabric around your hips, revealing your bare pussy to him. “Stars, you’re beautiful,” he groaned, his eyes darkening with lust as he spread your legs wider, settling himself between them. His mind flashed back to the moment in the library, when he saw your silk panties and how desperately he craved to taste you. And now, that time has finally come.

He pressed soft, teasing kisses along your inner thighs, making you squirm with anticipation. “Patience, Princess,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalising. “I want to savour this.”

You whimpered, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he finally reached your core, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation made you cry out, your back arching off the bed. “Crosshair,” you moaned, your voice desperate and needy.

His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he licked and sucked at your clit, intense and with precision. “You taste so sweet,” he mewls against you, the vibrations sending shivers through you. “I could stay here all night.”

You were lost in a haze of pleasure for an incredible few minutes, your body writhing beneath him as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. “Please,” you gasped, your hands clutching at his head. “I need more.”

He looked up at you through your legs, his eyes burning into you. “As you wish, beautiful.” He brought his hands up, tugging the top of your nightdress down to expose your breasts. You gasp at the sudden chill but then moan as his fingers begin to play with your nipples, rolling and pinching them as he continues to devour you.

You cried out at the dual sensations, your hips bucking against his mouth. “Oh, fuck,” you slipped, the curse word escaping before you could stop it.

Crosshair’s eyes flashed with something primal at your slip of the tongue, and he responded with a feral groan. “Such a dirty mouth for a Princess,” he taunted, his fingers slipping inside you, curling and thrusting in time with his tongue’s ministrations.

Your legs turned to jelly, your body trembling uncontrollably as he finger-fucked you with relentless rigour. “Crosshair!” you screamed, your voice hoarse with pleasure. “Oh, fuck, don’t stop!”

He didn’t, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to push you over the edge. Your climax hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body shaking with the force of it as you cried out his name again and again, thighs threatening to close between over his head as cum all over his mouth.

He held you through it, his movements slowing as you came down from your high, your body limp and sedated beneath him. He pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh before pulling back. “I could get used to hearing you scream my name,” he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly over your sensitive skin.

“Me too,” you gasped, sitting up on your elbows as he moved to lay beside you. “That was… I can't even explain.”

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked softly, laying his hand over the top of yours.

“Loved it.” You grinned, but there was something you now wanted to try. Your eyes drifted down to the obvious bulge in his blacks, your breath hitching with anticipation. You bit your lip, your fingers tracing the outline of his arousal through the fabric. “I think it’s time I return the favor.”

Crosshair's eyes haze over with lust as he watched you. “Princess, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you interrupted, your voice filled with a mix of determination and nervous excitement. You both sit up, Crosshair watching you in awe as you help him slip out of his glove, your fingers brushing against his skin as you expose his toned chest. Your hands moved lower, tugging down his lower half and freeing him from the confines. His erection sprang free, and you couldn’t help but marvel at his size and the throbbing need you saw in his eyes.

“You’re so hard,” you whispered, your voice laced with hunger. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

He groaned, his hands clenching the sheets as you wrapped your fingers around his length, giving him a tentative stroke. “Princess…”

You leaned in, your breath warm against his skin as you began to place soft kisses along his shaft. “Do you like this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he hissed, his hips bucking slightly as you took him into your mouth. He lays back down as you start slow, your tongue swirling around the tip, tasting his salty essence. You glanced up at him, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Encouraged, you took him deeper, your lips stretching around his girth. You hollowed your cheeks, creating a delicious suction that made him groan loudly. “Oh fuck,” he muttered, his hands tangling in your hair as he struggled to keep control.

You began to bob your head, your hand pumping the base of his cock in rhythm with your mouth. The sounds you made were wet and obscene, if someone were to press their ear against the door they’d definitely hear what was going on but it only spurred you on. You could feel his body tensing, his muscles straining as he fought to hold back.

Wanting to drive him wild, you let your other hand gently cup his balls, rolling them in your palm. You felt his entire body shudder, his grip on your hair tightening. “Oh baby, that feels good,” he groaned, his voice a deep rasp.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you pulled back slightly, letting your tongue trail down to his balls. You kissed and sucked on them, your hand still working his shaft. The combination of your antics had him thrashing, his moans growing louder and louder. Your lips, covered in spit, move back to his cock as you then take him deeper, your throat relaxing as you push yourself to take more of him. His cock hit the back of your throat, and you gagged slightly, but the sound only seemed to excite him more. “Princess, you’re g-going, shit, to make me cum,” he warned, his voice strained.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with determination. “That’s exactly what I want,” you whispered, before taking him back into your mouth with renewed vigour. You used your hand to stroke the length you couldn’t fit, your fingers squeezing and twisting in a way that made him gasp.

Then, in a moment of boldness, you shifted your attention lower, letting your tongue trail down to his balls once more. You took one into your mouth, sucking gently while your hand continued to pump his shaft. The sound that ripped from his throat was almost primal, his body trembling as his orgasm was closing in.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily as you lavished attention on his sensitive skin. “That feels so fucking good.”

You could feel his balls tightening in your hand, his entire body tensing as he reached his peak. With one final, desperate thrust, he came, spilling himself into your mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, the taste of him filling your senses.

When he finally stilled, you pulled back, licking your lips and meeting his gaze. His cocky demeanor was shattered, replaced by a look of bewilderment and satisfaction. “Baby,” he breathed, “You’re incredible.”

You smiled, crawling up to lay beside him, your head resting on his chest. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you whispered, feeling a sense of pride. Truthfully, you never thought you’d be able to do this. Especially having brought him so much pleasure.

“Do you want to take it a step further?” Crosshair asks, his eyes searching yours as you nestle into his chest, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Your heart races at his words, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding your senses. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice tight with anticipation.

He cups your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Are you sure my sweet? This is your first time.”

“I’m sure,” you reply, your voice growing more confident. “I want you, Crosshair.”

A smile spreads across his lips as he moves to hover above you. He kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hand slides down your body to your pussy once again. You part your legs, his fingers finding your wetness. “Mmm, you’re so ready for me,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low growl.

His fingers tease your slit, rubbing gently before slipping inside you to prepare you for his length. You gasp and grin at the sensation, your body tensing slightly. It felt amazing but perhaps your nerves were getting the better of you.

“Relax,” he whispers, his lips moving to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I trust you.”

He continues to caress you, his fingers working you open as his thumb circles your clit. The pleasure builds, making you moan softly. When he feels you’re ready, he positions himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock teasing your opening.

“This might hurt a little,” he warns, his eyes locking with yours. “But I promise it’ll feel good soon.”

You nod, bracing yourself. He pushes into you slowly, stretching you inch by inch. You whimper at the slight sting, your nails digging into his shoulders. He kisses you gently, murmuring soothing words against your lips. “You’re doing so well, Princess. Just breathe.”

As he pushes deeper, you feel an intense fullness, his cock stretching you in ways you’ve never felt before. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that leaves you breathless. “W-wow.” You look between both your bodies, watching his cock slowly disappear inside you.

The sight blew your mind. You knew this was breaking royal protocol and that if anyone found out, there would be dire consequences. But the thrill of the forbidden romance only spurs you on, making you crave him even more.

When he hits the wall inside you, his cock rests in the warmth of your cunt, letting you adjust to his size. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your body relaxing as the initial pain fades and as you lay your head back down to look up at him. “Please, continue.”

He begins to move, his strokes slow and deep, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. He watches your face, gauging your reactions, and when he sees you start to enjoy it, his pace quickens.

“Please, be more dominant with me,” you moan, your voice breathy with need. “I want you to take control.”

His eyes gleam with power at your words, a cocky smile spreading across his face. “Are you sure you want that?”

You bite your lip, “Are you questioning the Princess?” You counter with a flash of mischief. “Claim. Me.”

He groans at your words, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his thrusts becoming harder and more powerful as you demanded. The bed creaks under the force, your moans growing louder with each movement. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, his voice rough. “such a tight royal pussy.”

“More, Crosshair! I need your cock so much.” You cry, your body being pummelled into your mattress. You could feel the stretch of your pussy, his veiny length creating a beautiful friction inside you that had your toes curling.

His eyes burn with lust as he increases his pace, each thrust harder and faster. After a while, he shifts positions, flipping you onto your stomach. “Get on your knees,” he commands.

You obey, your body trembling with anticipation. He positions himself behind you, his hands gripping the roush of your nightdress as he drives into you from behind in a quick motion. You lay your face into the pillow, hips raised to allow him to go deeper, hitting spots inside you that make you cry out in pleasure. “F-F-Fuck.” You gasp, your hands tight in the sheets as he brings your body back and forth onto his dick.

Your moans are muffled by the pillow as he pounds into you, the bed continuing to creak rhythmically beneath you. You reach down, fondling your own breasts, pinching your nipples as waves of pleasure build. "D-Dont stop, you’re so good.”

The room fills with the sounds of your bodies moving together—his grunts and praises, your moans, the slap of skin against skin. His pace is relentless, each thrust more intense than the last. Your bodies glisten with sweat, droplets sliding down your back and mingling with his, the heat of your coupling intensifying.

You feel his hands tighten on your hips, guiding you into a perfect rhythm. Each movement sends jolts of ecstasy through you, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

You arch your back, pushing against him, matching his fervent thrusts. He grins cockily from behind you, reaching across and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

“Dirty little girl,” he groans, watching his cock slip in and out of you. The friction, the pressure, the overwhelming pleasure was making you see stars.

"Crosshair," you gasp again, your voice strained with impending climax. "I’m so close."

He pulls out suddenly making you whine as you miss the heat before he flips you onto your back again. “Not yet,” he growls, and you watch in wide-eyed awe as he moves to straddle your chest. “Suck me first.”

Without a question you take him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his cock as he thrusts shallowly. He watches you with a dazed, hungry expression, his hands guiding your movements as he locks his fingers round the back of your head, keeping your face in place as his cock slips all over your tongue and down your throat. “You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he murmurs, his voice rough as you slurp and gasp on his cock. “Such a filthy Princess.”

When he’s had his fill, he pulls out making you gasp for a breath as he begins positioning himself between your legs again. “Ready for more?”

“Yes,” you pant, your body aching for release.

He drives into you again, this time harder and faster. Your moans fill the room as he fucks you relentlessly, each thrust sending you closer to the edge. “Touch yourself,” he mutters, his voice rough. “I want to see you come.”

Your fingers instantly move between your legs, fingers thrashing over your clit as he ruts into you. The combination of his cock and your own touch pushes you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. “FUCK! C-Crosshair! I’m cumming.” Your body convulses, your screams of pleasure filling the room as you feel yourself release over his cock.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groans, pulling out at the last moment. He straddles you, stroking himself to completion. “Where do you want it?”

“On my breasts,” you gasp, arching your back to him.

He moans deeply, his release hitting your breasts and nightdress in hot, sticky spurts. He collapses beside you, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies slick with sweat.

But you aren’t done. If this was the last time you were to see him, you were going to make it last.

With a smirk, you push him onto his back, straddling him with this newfound confidence. “I think it’s my turn to return the favour again,” you murmur, guiding his hardening cock back inside you. You begin to ride him, your movements becoming more skilled and precise despite your inexperience.

Stars, what would anyone think of you now?

“That’s it… you’re beautiful,” he groans, his hands moving to your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples as you move, not caring if his hands get a little messy from his previous release. His mouth follows, sucking and kissing your tits, making you moan with every touch.

You grind against him, your hips rolling as you ride him faster. You start by gently rocking your hips, feeling him deep inside you. Gradually, you lift your body, almost letting him slip out before slamming back down, taking him fully each time.

Your rhythm is mesmerising, your back arching as you move, your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

His eyes are locked onto you, completely enamoured, unable to keep his hands off you. His fingers trace the curves of your body, his hands holding your hips, guiding your movements. “Fuck yes,” he groans, his eyes filled with desire. “Keep going.”

Your pace increases, each upward lift and downward slam more intense than the last. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, mingling with your increasingly loud moans. Your body trembles with the intensity of your second orgasm building inside you.

“Crosshair,” you cry, your voice thick with pleasure, “I’m going to come again.”

He looks up at you with adoration and hunger, his hands caressing your thighs and waist. “That’s it, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and encouraging. “Let go for me. You’re doing so well.”

You feel his fingers start to brush against your clit, adding to the overwhelming sensation. Your hips move frantically, chasing that peak of pleasure. He can’t stop praising you, his voice a constant murmur of soft words and pleads. “So beautiful,” he breathes, his eyes never leaving yours. “Keep going, just like that. Cum for me.”

Your body spas, your orgasm shooting through your body. Your cries of pleasure fill the room and he holds you through it, his hands and voice grounding you as you ride out the waves of your release,.

As you collapse onto his chest, both of you panting and spent, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “You were perfect,” he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely perfect.”

You definitely couldn’t go on after that, your legs like jelly as you flop onto your side next to him, the feeling of him exiting you lewd and sinful but you didn’t care.

The two of you lay in silence, nothing but heavy pants and the soft shines of moonlight seen and heard in the room. You’re suddenly drowsy but you knew you should get up and make yourself tidy. But Crosshair beat you to it.

“Stay here,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care of you.”

He slipped out of bed, his movements graceful and quiet as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom. You heard the sound of running water, the faint clink of glass bottles as he prepared a bath for you. A few moments later, he returned to your side, lifting you gently in his arms.

“Come on, Princess,” he whispered, carrying you to the bathroom. He set you down by the edge of the tub, the warm steam rising up to meet you. “Let me help you.”

He eased you into the bath, the hot water enveloping you like a comforting embrace. You sighed, sinking back against the tub as the tension melted from your muscles. Crosshair knelt beside you, his touch tender as he washed your back and hair. His fingers worked through your knots with care, his eyes focused and attentive.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your voice drowsy. “Thank you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he teased, making you playfully splash him with the bath water as his hand glides through your hair. “I’m only messing. You deserve to be pampered.”

After a while, he helped you out of the bath, wrapping you in a plush towel. He dried you off gently, his touch soothing and careful. When you were dry, he led you back to the bed, tucking you under the covers before slipping in beside you. You nestled against his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

“What happens next?” you asked quietly, your fingers tracing patterns on his skin.

Crosshair sighed, his hold on you tightening slightly. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I wish I did. Maybe my squad could be assigned to protect you, but it would complicate things. Our feelings… they aren’t supposed to happen.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. “I know. But I can’t help how I feel. Maybe one day, things will be different.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his voice soft. “One day.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “We could run away,” you joked lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips yet a part of you wanted it to not be a joke. At all. “I could live a life of adventure and freedom instead of staying in these walls.”

He chuckled, a sound that rumbled deep in his chest. “As tempting as that sounds, Princess, we both know it’s not possible. Your duty is here. And mine… well, mine is wherever the Republic needs me.”

A sad reality settled over you, the weight of your responsibilities pressing down. But with Crosshair holding you close, you allowed yourself to dream.

“We’ll figure it out,” you said softly, your voice filled with determination. “Somehow.”

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering. He doesn’t reply with his thoughts, not wanting to fill you with false promises. Apart from this real one: “Whatever happens, I will never forget you.”

And he said your name. Not your title. Your real name.

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace lull you into a peaceful sleep. You didn’t want to admit it, but you know that when you wake he will no longer be beside you.

The future was uncertain, but for now, you had this moment. And it was enough.

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka

@theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone

@ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog

@pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87

@ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado o @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

@greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420

@ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @lulalovez @thiswitchloves9904

#crosshair x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #the bad batch au #nahoney22 writes

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chiiyuuvv · 9 months ago

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[DAY 2] masterlist ᡣ𐭩 !

— " platonic sleepovers that end up in with you in their arms " ; one bed / vacation ft. half of riize

♡list : @lecheugo , @imthisclosetokms , @rizzkisworld , @hyvelxve , @starryriize

"Cant believe i have to room with you," wonbin shoots you a look as he jingles the key into the door knob, finally opening with some struggle to reveal your beautiful hotel room. The walls painted white with a tall, warm yellow lamp at the side to illuminate the space. Only problem was, there was only one bed.

Everyone became fully aware of this information once the recipient informed them, breaking into a circle to play rock, paper, scissors. Winner and loser would be paired up together to get that singular bed, while everyone else was able to decide who they wanted to sleep with.

You won, wonbin lost, his eyes rolling as he clicks his tongue. He wasnt annoyed like how he acted.. he actually didnt mind, knowing that hed be comfortable with you. But he loved teasing you, watching as your lips form into a straight line. "If this was a horror movie.. im kicking you off the bed so the monster would eat you first." Wonbins head falls back as he laughs at your words, watching as your arms cross.

"I'll drag you with me." He gives you a wink equipped with a smirk, before grabbing one of the towels that sat at the edge of the bed. "Im gonna shower first." He says over his shoulder, your head nodding in acknowledgment although he couldnt see you, jumping onto the bed to turn on the tv. "Yeah, okay." You say, your full attention on the screen. "Take your time."

"Look whos here.." you say as the bathroom door opens, a grin appearing onto wonbins lips, his hands busy drying his wet hair with a towel. "Miss me?" His lips pucker, throwing that towel in the hamper along with the clothes he wore in the morning. "Are you going to shower?" He askes, taking the opportunity to slide into the bed next to you, lifting the blanket so it could lay comfortably on his legs.

"No, i showered before i got here."

"Cool." He plays with his fingers. "Are you going to play something?"

"Yeah.. im just trying to find something good," wonbin nods his head out of the corner on your eyes, your lips licking into full concentration. He couldnt help but admire you in this state, his eyes darting to your figure and across the room so it doesnt seem obvious that he was staring, his hands scratching the back of his neck.

Anyone that walked by could notice wonbins tiny liking towards you, his laughs becoming more frequent whenever you opened your mouth, the small desire to spend the rest of the day with you, and the next.. and the next.

He didnt know why but he found you so captivating, wanting to get to know you more and more as the time pasted. So he was a little too happy when you were being paired, but calmed himself down so no one could notice his growing feelings, and more importantly so he wouldnt get teased by his friend group.

"Found a movie!" You exclaim, snapping him out of his thoughts. His head turns when he realizes hes been staring at you this entire time, his ears pink as he prays that you didnt notice. "Should i turn off the lights?" You ask, completely oblivious. Thank god.. he breathes the breath he doesnt even know he was holding, a quick nod leaving his head.

The movies been playing in the background yet wonbin hasnt paid any attention to it. Not because the movie was boring but because he couldnt stop staring at you, and he was getting a little sleepy. A long yawn leaves his lips, shifting into the bed to get comfortable.

"Tired?" You ask, turning down the volume of the television so the latter could hear you better. Wonbin shakes his head in agreement, his eyes widening when your hands lace into his silky hair, giving it a soft pat. And suddenly, he doesnt care anymore, his head leaning into your touch before resting against your arm so you could play with it more, his eyes getting heavy. "Is this okay?" You ask for consent, watching as wonbin lets out another yawn in response, his eyes finally closing, drifting off into sleepy land.

The next morning, a sleepy hum leaves his lips, his head buring deeper into your chest as you lazily stroke his hair, your legs tangled and his arms wrapped around your waist. "Aww, they look so cute." A voice says, along with a snap of a camera. A snap of a camera? Without thinking, wonbin shoots up, a shocked sungchan and eunseok standing over them.

"Well good morning lovebirds-"

"Sungchan. Delete that. Right. Now."

"Its hyung to you-"

"I SAID DELETE IT!"

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yuutasprincess · 1 year ago

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Day 1: Yuuta Okkotsu

Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: Noncon, breaking and entering, primal play, Yuuta's sweet but also male manipulating you

The doors are locked, of course they are- every night you make sure to twist the knob. You hold your breath, making sure the faint noise from your phone is muted and all that exists within the house is the sound of your heart pumping in your chest.

There’s a pause, silence. The door is locked, nothing is inside the house except you.

Outside, the street lamps cast their glow across the deserted yard, blocking any view of the desolate neighborhood. There's no one in sight, and the only sounds are the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the periodic rustling of leaves. It's a typical night, with the neighborhood slowly succumbing to darkness as the clock strikes 10. Curtains are drawn, windows are sealed shut, and doors are locked to keep whatever resides out.

Inside the house his shoulders sag. Back pressed to the locked door, how he got inside is no one’s business but his. He stays still for a frozen moment, bleary eyes adjusting to the dark as he watches shadows dance.

No one is outside. The man has found his home for the night.

Yuuta stands tall, lips sealed, he simply watches, taking in all the details of your home: the unfolded blankets on the couch, dishes drying in the sink, and the pair of shoes carelessly tossed by the entrance where he now stands. He thinks it’s a lovely home, he’s never been inside. His chest swells with an odd sense of contentment as he continues to stand motionless, he is inside your house.

The grip of paranoia keeps you awake, your body tightly tucked under the blankets, phone clutched to your chest. Your eyes refuse to shut, and you anxiously await the appearance of a ghost in the doorway. You tell yourself it's just your imagination, but then you hear it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing from downstairs.

Then it’s rushed footsteps, heavy, pounding footsteps and the sound of someone crashing into your walls and shaking the house. You swallow your fear and force yourself out of bed, stumbling into the closet and grasping anything that could be used as a weapon.

He can’t contain himself any longer, his cheeks round and lips pulled as he smiles while marching up your stairs. Yuuta’s far from discreet, his ragged breaths and the slam of your bedroom door echoing, the weight of the doorknob creating a hole in the wall from the force. He’s practically panting in the doorway, hair clinging to his forehead, he raises a thumb to the corner of his tilted lips.

“Anyone home?”

He laughs to himself, flushed cheeks and crinkled eyes unsettling as he makes his way to your bed. He flings the blankets aside, crawling onto the warm spot where your body lay just moments ago, its imprint still visible in the mattress.

"I know you're here," Yuuta whispers into the oppressive silence of the room. He digs his face into your pillows, fingers gripping the material as he sniffs loudly. It's disgusting, the way his eyes roll into his skull and how his hips stutter into your bed at your smell.

The only thing keeping you from screaming is the hand you’ve slapped over your mouth, fingers curling into the skin of your cheek as you watch with bated breath. He makes a mess of your bed, tossing your blankets to the floor and rising with a heavy thud as he runs his hands through his hair. You think you might get to laugh about this in a couple years when telling the story, some creep who broke in but didn’t do anything except lay in your bed.

With knees tucked to your chest you watch him move around the space, fingers tapped rhythmically against various surfaces as he avoids the closet. Your own trembling fingers hover over your phone, help on speed dial, while you clench your teeth, jaw tight, trying to suppress your tears.

Then, silence.

Suddenly, you’re being pulled out of the closet, leaving your phone behind, as his hand firmly covers yours over your mouth. His other hand cradled the back of your head, and for a horrifying moment, you imagined him crushing your skull. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gaze at him, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, hair falling across his face.

He breathes heavy, hot air fanning your face. “There you are pretty girl,” he’s practically cooing at you while you cry.

You're terrified, not sure what he wants but not willing to let him do whatever he plans. Clawing and kicking, you fought to break free from his grasp, letting out sobs as you bolted out of the room. Your feet slid across the floor, thighs burning as you raced down the stairs, taking each step two at a time. He pursued you, eerily silent, and although you couldn't hear him, you could feel his presence, his fingers brushing against the back of your shirt, and his lunging attempts to grab you.

He follows you quietly through the house while you stumble and push things aside trying to reach the front door. Your body slamming into the wall as you cry out twisting the knob.

It’s locked. Of course it’s locked, you lock the door every night. You make sure of it.

Thoughts finally enter your mind as you try to push towards the kitchen, the rack of knives practically reassuring you. He grabs you, not too tight but effective in keeping your arms pinned to your sides. He pressed his body against yours, wedging you between him and the door, gently shushing your cries. His chin resting on your head as you pleaded with him, promising not to reveal his face, not to tell anyone, begging for your life.

He tosses you over his shoulder with ease, hands gripping the meat of your thighs as he grins over his shoulder watching you wail. “I’m not going to hurt you sweet girl, you’ll feel real good in a second.” gripping your ankles he keeps you from kicking at him, the shaky hits against his back doing little to nothing to deter him.

Laying you onto the couch he’s quick to rest his weight over you, knee between your thighs and hands keeping your arms against your head. “Cute” his nose runs up the column of your throat, inhaling your scent and licking at a sensitive spot under your jaw. His touch is dirty, goosebumps rising on your skin as he kisses at your neck and bites the skin softly, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to make you anxious.

Releasing his grip on you, he rises to his knees, his gaze fixed firmly upon your heaving form. “Don’t move alright? I don’t want to have to force you still.” His eyes never leave you, jaw tight while glaring through fat tears, stomach churning as you watch the way his thick fingers idly tug at his belt.

In that moment, your instincts kick into high gear—fight or flight takes over. Your body scrambles to break free, and you manage to slip your legs out from under him, delivering a hard kick to his side before bolting away. Hands grabbing ornamental decoration on the table and sending glass shattering his way. Your mind races ahead of your body as you reach for the kitchen door, hand instinctively finding the knife left on the counter. Shaky fingers gripping the heavy handle as you glance back to see him rising from the couch with a frown before you’re out the door.

In the dimly lit room, Yuuta's laughter fills the doorway. He stands there, one hand on his hip, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he casually runs his fingers through his hair. His belt dangles from his free hand as he watches you, the thrill of having you apparent in his eyes. A chase wasn't what he had in mind for tonight, but he can't resist the allure of your determination and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Tonight, he decides to play along.

The treeline at the end of the block is a promising escape route. Your plan is to cut straight through the woods, finding your way to the main road where you can seek help. The only thing preventing you from pounding on a neighbor's door for help is the unsettling sight of those piercing blue eyes fixed upon you from your own front lawn. He's playing with you, casually biting the end of his thumb, watching you like a predator stalking its prey.

Determined, you rush into the woods, heart pounding as you leave behind any trace of him. You slow your pace to a brisk walk, inhaling the crisp air to soothe your burning lungs and alleviate the ache in your thighs. Feet numb as the lack of shoes settles into your brain, keep going- don’t stop. “Fuck. fuck!” The watery curses under your breath is all you can do to resolve the blood boiling anger you feel as you step over dirt.

To Yuuta, you’re the most darling thing he’s ever seen. The way you clutch the knife like a lifeline and attempt to muffle your breath, straining to hear his movements, is utterly endearing. He could just eat you up. He bites at the skin around his fingernails, eyes unblinking as he watches you start to speed up and waits for an opportunity to have you. As if he can wait.

In the blink of an eye, he materializes at the corner of your vision, deftly disarming you before you tumble into the unforgiving soil. The sensation of sticky leaves and portrusing roots beneath you sends a shiver down your spine, you clench your fists. “What the fuck do you want!” You try to roll over to stand but his converse nudge at your side to force you onto your back. Legs moving so his shoes are on either side of your hips while he toys with his belt.

He doesn’t answer you this time. Only pushes a thumb under the button of his pants with one hand and lets the material slip down, fingers pulling the elastic of his boxers before reaching in and pulling his leaking cock out. You don’t look. Hold your breath and turn your head with shut eyes as you choke on your own cries. Yuuta moves his shoe up to tap at your wet cheek softly, coaxing you into looking at him with the threat of a swift kick to your face. He’d never hurt you, but you don’t know that.

With watery eyes you watch him wrap his fingers around himself, the tip an angry red as he starts to slowly jack off on top of you, teeth tugging at his lower lip while he whines. Giving himself a couple of torturous pumps he teases his slit, thumbing at the pearly beads of precum before squatting down to bring it to your lips. His thumb tapping on your sealed lips before forcing you to taste him, it’s salty.

Yuuta's smile remains intact as he observes your reactions, an effortless "Good girl" slipping from his lips as you suddenly whip your head back, pulling his thumb away from your tongue. The look of infatuation in his eyes never wavers, not even when you desperately attempt to kick his feet away from your hips, or when you unleash a barrage of curses and screams until your throat burns raw. And most definitely not as you lie there, utterly helpless, with his belt securely fastened around your wrists, restricting them above your head.

Picking up the knife he knocked away from you he runs a finger over the dull end before pointing the tip at your collar. “Such a smart girl, my smart girl you really had me worried with this” dragging the knife under your night shirt he sucks his teeth and makes quick work of tearing the material to reveal your soft chest. Tossing the knife aside he falls to his knees and straddles your waist, one hand massaging your tit and other curving to fondle his heavy balls. He whines desperately over your cries, fingers pinching at your nipple until it’s hard and moving to the other one.

Goosebumps spread over your clenching stomach, body trying to sink into the ground away from his touch. “You’re so beautiful, so soft.” Yuuta's hand falls from his aching cock, fingers skimming the cold skin of your abdomen until they brush the edge of your sleep shorts to pull them down. Flipping you onto your stomach with your face in the dirt he adjusts your hips up.

Legs moving to keep yours spread as he rubs at the back of your thighs, pressing a soft kiss to the end of your spine he brushes a hand over your mound, fingers skimming your lips to feel your wetness. “Please- please” he coos at your shaky voice, hearts practically in his eyes as he sinks a finger into your heat, “I’ll give you just what you need pretty girl” Yuuta moans at your warmth, exposed cock twitching as he watches your cunt swallow his finger.

He fingers you eagerly, breath labored as he hears the way you sniffle and bite back a moan of your own. Easing another finger into your warmth his free hand rubs circles into your hip, body hunched over to continue kissing along the expanse of your back. Yuuta fights the urge to rut against your thigh, forearm tensing as he pulls his fingers away to rub at your neglected clit. Tight circles making you writhe in the dirt as he pinches at your bundle of nerves. “So pretty, keep making those noises- my pretty girl.”

Straightening up he admires you for a second, body pliable and dirt sticking to your cheek. God, he can’t get enough of you. The sound of fabric is all you can hear, heart beating quickly before a warmth hits your back. Yuuta fixes his jacket to cover your naked upper half, the chill of your skin urging him to provide you some comfort in a sick way.

Pushing your hair to the side his body rests over yours, cock smearing precum against your thigh as he presses wet kisses at your nape, “So, so good for me.” Thumbing at your puffy lips he collects your arousal on his fingers before wrapping a fist around his cock and bringing to tip to kiss your cunt.

His actions scramble your thoughts, the gentleness that he treats you with while partaking in rough actions makes your head pound. A heavy sigh leaves you when he starts to roll his hips into your cunt. He’s big. Careful as he whispers candy in your ear- his sweet girl, taking him so well. Your eyes burn with a sudden dryness as tears are unwilling to form, fuck, he feels so good inside you. Kisses searing as he rubs down your spine, his jacket and the feeling of his cock kissing your cervix keeping you warm in the dead of night.

Yuuta doesn’t even try to stop the whines bubbling in his chest, lips parted to exhale and lick at his lower lip, eye’s never leaving the way his hips meet your ass and the pretty arch he keeps your back in. It’s addictive, the way your pussy keeps sucking him back in, warm walls clenching down on him and squelching lewdly when he tries to pull out only to bully his way back in. Sweet noises leaving your lax body, hair hiding your face but he can only imagine how hot your cheek would be if he cupped your face in his palms.

“Oh- you’re so good to me, c’mere pretty girl” reaching for the knife tossed inches away he slices up, cutting the tight hold his belt had you locked in and pulls out to flip you onto your back. His jacket keeps your skin from touching the dirt as he shivers at the feeling of cold air hitting him, fingers squeezing your cheeks and making your lips pucker.

The kiss is gentle, lips hovering above yours as his soaked cock rests on your stomach, hand cradling your cheek as he hums into the one sided kiss. “Please princess, one kiss and I’ll take you home,” He’s so evil, moaning deeply when you entertain him, tongue slipping into your mouth and eyes rolling until there’s a dull ache behind his lids.

Keeping good on his promise he forces himself back in his pants, hands moving to slip his jacket onto your naked form before picking you up, arms around your back and under your knees as he runs his nose against your hairline, inhaling deeply. “Let me fuck you in your own bed princess- I’ll be so good to you.”

The walk back is silent. As silent as the neighborhood. The only sound your thumping heart and racing thoughts as you let him carry you home.

#D1 is kind of rough ^^#it gets better from here promise #jjk smut #jjk x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #okkotsu yuta x reader #kintober 2023 #yuuta smut #primal play

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innistable · 2 months ago

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Talk talk (snippet) [Full fic coming 10/07/2024] [1/4]

jason todd x reader

summary: the sequence of events that led you and your neighbor, Jason Todd, to fall in love. For better of for worse.

a/n: I'm new to tumblr and I'm still getting the hang of this. English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Please, like and reblog if you are interested in reading the full fic, any comment is highly appreciated.

word count: 2k

Your grandmother had always been a superstitious woman, constantly talking about those omens lying everywhere, praying to be seen, both as a warning sign or as a blissful encounter. However, you have never been the one to pay attention to that, not caring about cats, stairs, corners, clover and everything in between, especially in a city like Gotham, where you don’t need an auspice to know that danger is close.

For all of its sketchiness, Gotham City is a pretty straightforward place, there is always something happening, you may not see it, but it is there, an uneasiness that you can’t quite shake, hiding in a blind spot, a shadow in the corner of your eye. Still, in this precise moment, you wish that you had paid attention to something, omen or not, maybe the gray sky had been a good pointer that it was going to rain, maybe for once you could have listened to weather forecast, and maybe, just maybe, you should have just stayed at home after you saw that black cat licking one of its wounds on the fire escape.

The point of all this is that it is raining, pouring, it’s one of those rainfalls that’s so loud and strong that it makes you think that the sky is being torn apart. Now you are on your knees, blue jeans now wet and grayish against the cold pavement, trying to retrieve your scattered groceries.

It went like this: a few harmless droplets when you were cornering Monolith Square to take the bus after spending the evening seeing the Wayne Botanical Garden; on the bus, you were reading a book, something short and too pretentious for its own good, suddenly, the driver was using the windshield wiper and you noticed that the window view was then translucent, being barely able to make out the street silhouettes, it all became a blurry heap of buildings, street lamps and ill-defined legs, torsos and heads; then, you recognized the “C” Building, your stop, so you pressed the button, the bus slowed down and opened its door, outside a storm awaited.

It’s a two hundred meter walk to your apartment, but what normally was easy, it turned into a midday odyssey, strong winds and warm water made the route unbearable, your tote bag felt heavier by every passing second and just when you were in front of your building, keys in hand, your bag tore by the seams, and all of its contents fell to the ground.

It’s frustrating and you feel like screaming, it’s not the worst thing to ever happen to you, but it does feel like it is, probably because Gotham is some kind of cruel mistress, no matter how hard you try to play by its rules, it always ends up having a way to humble you, you might try to avoid trouble, but it ends up finding you, one way or another. You have this kind of overwhelming sentiment that makes your eyes sting when you see the damp sugar on the floor, just next to the trinkets you got from the Wayne Botanical Garden and your favorite brand of cookies.

The rain seems to feel your distress and it starts pouring even more. Great.

“Need help?” a voice asks.

You have never been a very religious person, but when you hear those words dripped in that thick gothamite accent that sometimes makes your stomach churn, you think that perhaps there is something out there that has decided to glance your way for once, and that for once, it felt pity for you.

“Yes.” you say.

You look up and see a tall man, gruff, huge. He has dry blood on his upper lip, a thin scab, dark maroon, recent but not too fresh. His hair is black, tousled, with a white streak on the front, and it seems a little bit damp, locks sticking to his forehead. His skin seems thick, probably because it is littered with scars, white dents on his skin, some big and some small, you don’t think too much about it, it’s Gotham, everyone has some scars around here, from gunshots to safety accidents on the swings of Robinson Park. His eyes are blue, almost icy, and his pupil is enveloped by vibrant green hues, his gaze seems curious and fixated, he is analyzing you, the same way you are analyzing him, ‘fair’ you think. He wears a worn out hoodie, overused, with grease spots and frayed holes, he is wearing also a pair of black shorts, the ones you use for running or going to the gym, and he’s also using trainers, the label says Numa instead of Puma, they are probably from the street markets that you can find around in every corner of Gotham.

He is alluring, you concede, even handsome. But that doesn’t matter, because he is kind. Gotham is isolating, people keep to themselves, they look the other way, not because they are necessarily assholes, but because they have clear boundaries, they distinguish your business from their business, and unless those two spheres intersect, they don’t see a reason to cross the line, it’s easier that way. Therefore, unapologetic kindness is not something easy to come across; in fact, you would be wary of it, if it wasn’t for the fact that he has a plastic bag and is taking your milk carton from the ground. Thank you, that’s what your eyes say.

For Jason it goes like this.

He is in his apartment, for the first time in days. It’s Wednesday and on Saturday he had a complicated patrol with Nightwing, the kind of complicated that leaves your face scarlet and body mauve, the type of convoluted patrol that leaves you aching for days, movements limited and a sore spot under your sixth rib.

He was kept in the Manor until yesterday evening, not because he wanted to, but because he was forced to. I can take care of myself he grumbled, but then Afred got this look in his eyes, not the one that says I am disappointed, he doesn’t care about that, he is used to disappointing, to failed expectations and lists of unspoken requirements he will never meet, it’s fine, what’s not fine is the other look, the one that softly whispers You are breaking my heart, master Jason, and Jason doesn’t want to do that, not to Alfred, who seems the only one ready to accept him for what he is now and not clinging to an old memory of what could have been. So, he stayed, receiving medical care from Leslie and Alfred, but he left as soon as he could.

Alfred had asked if he was staying for dinner, even though at this point it’s more of a silent plea, some sort of want for him to stay for once, to really be part of the family, to act like one, but Jason never agrees. The thing is, Jason never stays, he flees, he doesn’t do goodbyes or excuses, he is not a Wayne, perhaps he was at some point, when he was loud and excitable, full of wonder, but that part of him died, and no magic or god can bring that back, some things stay dead and maybe it’s better off that way.

The point is that he was finally back at his apartment. The closest thing he had to a proper home. It was small, he could afford bigger, he had bigger, but it began being just a plain safehouse, some impersonal storage unit to keep ammo, League weapons, gear, etc. However, at some point, he started spending nights there, probably because it was in a nice part of Gotham, Midtown, without the constant chaos from Uptown, where he mostly operated, but still far away from the haughtiness ever so characteristic of Downtown Gotham. It was a perfect balance, not too much, not too little, and Jason likes evenness, equilibrium, perhaps because most days he tethers the line between sanity and insanity so he appreciates any resemblance of stability he can grasp onto.

He arrived yesterday at 20:30, ordered delivery from the mexican restaurant a few blocks away, and fell asleep watching reruns from an old, mildly successful tv show. He likes the background noise, when everything is too quiet, he starts imagining things: footsteps, the sound of a crowbar against his flat’s parquet, screams and wails, the sound of a ticking bomb, etc. He likes everything that makes his subconscious believe that he is not alone.

His morning wasn’t different from any other mornings and that was fine. Jason enjoys routines, the predictable. He enjoys his usual morning channel; the black cat that visits him every morning to silently ask for food; the cadence of his neighbors footsteps as they run around their flat trying to get the kids ready for school and Roy’s texts. There is no sign that today is going to be different, and he likes that. He hits the gym, as always. He prepares lunch, nothing fancy. He reads, today it is The Master and Margarita, he is one hundred pages in, he marks words, phrases, writes thoughts on the margins and slowly makes his way through. He journals, he is not much of a poet, not that he wants to; he might be tortured, but he is not an artist, words more times than not get stuck on his throat, scratching like barbed wire against his larynx, drawing blood; however, Dinah, also known as Black Canary, who acts as his psychologist via Roy, advised him to write, she told him that it could help, sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t, he keeps doing it anyway.

When the clock marks 17:23, he gets bored, so he goes to his balcony. It’s sad, but he lives his days anticipating the nights; he likes patrolling, he savors the adrenaline, he basks on the rush, he thrives under the light of traffic and streetlights; daylight stuns him, he doesn’t really know how to navigate the world once the sun has risen, it’s disorientating. Therefore, he just rots, he decays around his apartment, and now he feels like festering on his balcony. Suddenly, it starts to rain. It begins as a drizzle, so he doesn’t really care, he takes a cigarette, he lights it up and takes a puff.

He started to smoke when he came back to life, his dad used to do it, his mom too, everyone in Crime Alley did it, since it helped you to stay warm. When he was younger, he didn’t like it, back then when he was the bright-eyed Robin and he treated his body like a temple because Batman told him to do so, back when the only thing he wanted was to prove himself worthy, something he never was. His body as Robin was a temple; his body as the Red Hood are the ruins of a long forgotten empire that lived its own demise, and no one cares about ruins, why should he?

His first cigarette was given to him by Egon, one of the first mercenaries who trained him after his resurrection; then, the habit sticked, after all the life he chose, the life he lives, happens on dimly lit bars and dingy hideouts where a thick layer of smoke covers everything, it’s only normal that he smokes. Furthermore, he admits, there is some kind of masochist element to it, at first, the smell of smoke was enough to send him to a panic attack, since it reminded him of bombs, collapsed buildings, screeching manic laughs and charred skin; smoke was what filled his lungs when he gave his last breath, so if he was able to control the panic that the smell evoked, that meant that he won, in some way, in any form, it may be a consolation prize, but a prize nevertheless.

So he smokes and the rain starts falling with more force, but he doesn’t bother going inside, he likes the feeling of the droplets against his skin, it’s nice, it feels real. He looks down and he sees you, hunched over picking things from the floor and, after a few heartbeats laced with smoke, he decided to go down and help.

He sees you up close, eyes fixed in your face, taking in every detail, engraving them on his memory as he does with everyone. Right now, the world doesn’t tilt on his axis, there are no sweaty palms or rushed breaths, nothing has stopped, it doesn’t feel like something monumental, but it is.

He helps you and accompanies you to your apartment, it’s on the second floor - his is on the fourth - and he feels content about knowing someone new after Roy has been nagging him about needing to be friendlier and meet other people. He doesn’t talk much, he never does, he tells you his name and his apartment number, it’s enough for such a small talk. You thank him and it feels nice. He leaves and you close the door, it’s enough for today.

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#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fanfic #batfam #batfam imagine #batfam fanfic #red hood #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction #dc comics #dc universe #dcu

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sunsetchicane · 3 months ago

Text

Postcards - Part 2 [LN4]

lando norris x [travel] journalist fem!reader

find the series here

word count: 7.3k

summary: The one where it's six months later and you still find yourself thinking about him. Maybe a another fated meeting will be the second chance you need.

warnings: fluff, banter, yearning, an unrealistic portrayal of London [probably], sexual innuendo, maybe a kiss or two idk, and...angst

author's note: Heyyy team. Back with another part for you. I think I really like this part and I hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback is appreciated!! So please feel free to leave any questions/concerns/comments you have. I hope you like it and keep your eyes peeled for what's coming next! Lots of love! [xoxo elle]

Summer Break July 2022

When walking down Camden Market, you can’t help but feel tucked into history. Life bustles in the walkways. Mothers corral starry-eyed children. Small bunches of friends are bent over their drinks while they taste each other’s. Couples promenade languidly, hands folded together and heads leaned in. Everything and nothing at all happens at Camden. Time stands still, holding tightly to memories and secrets. The brick that makes up the streets and walls stands proud and true, veterans at their trade. Music floats out of shops like dandelion seeds on a summer’s breeze, planting itself wherever fate leads.

It’s only your second day in London. You arrived late into the afternoon yesterday, not feeling up to checking out the subject matter of your project after traveling. Instead, you checked into the small townhouse that you’d be staying at for the duration of your trip and then wandered about the streets of London. You’ve never been to London before, but it was exactly as you’d imagined it. Tall red buses perused the streets. Towering buildings loomed over skinny walkways. But your favorite sight was the sun slipping just below the horizon, relinquishing the world to dusk, and the street lamps casting a warm glow over the summer night.

Today, however, you weren’t wandering the winding streets of the city, you’re acquainting yourself with one of London’s most well known attractions: Camden Market. When you were young, you saw pictures of it in some magazine you’d found in your school’s library. You’d adored the way the market looked on the page and promised yourself that you would see it for yourself someday and take pictures of your own. And now you are. The dream of a little girl flutters in your chest. You clutch onto your camera as your fingers tremble from the weight of your emotions. You really made it.

Closing your eyes and sighing, you bask in the moment for a second longer before fishing out your phone from your pocket. The market just opened, so you have the entire day to explore and find your story. The history of Camden is so rich that it can be found around every corner, tucked into every shop, and, most importantly, etched into the memories of the people.

Piecing together a story with stunning visuals here is difficult not for the lack of inspiration, but for the over abundance of it. How you’re going to choose what to share with the world, you have no idea.

This isn’t your first story with your publication, but it is your first major one. After working on small, local pieces, your boss finally caved and gave you a real assignment. It came in a nick of time, too, because you’d been getting antsy about staying in one place for so long. You needed to get out. But, there’s a lot of pressure to rise to the occasion. If you don’t do well on this piece, who knows when the next time you’ll be assigned something like this again.

You move through the market, stopping to watch or take pictures or talk with a shop owner here and there. The hustle and bustle keeps you moving, the current of moving bodies too strong to fight.

After a few hours of nonstop walking, you have dozens of ideas scribbled down and photos stored in your camera. You have a few specific shops and names written down to revisit when you come back with a more detailed idea of what your story is going to look like. The thoughts swirling through your brain move at lightspeed.

The only thing that breaks your intense concentration is the wafting smell of cooking food. Involuntarily, your stomach grumbles and your mouth waters at the savory smell. The only part of Camden that you haven’t sampled yet is the food. Suddenly, you’re desperate to find wherever that smell is coming from. You don’t think you’ve ever inhaled something so lovely.

After tucking away your notebook and slinging your camera off to your side, you hold your backpack over a shoulder and begin seeking out your lunch. There are a dozen different places to choose from, each producing a signature scent that crawls into the walkways. Signs that don each of the shop’s names does nothing to help you decide, everything speaking to your stomach in a different way. Frustration grows inside of you, fueled by hunger.

But then, as if the universe had a plan all along to keep you exactly where you were, you see him strolling down the walkway. Lando. Your breath catches in your chest, leaving you feeling lightheaded. Jaw slack and eyes wide, you take the sight of him.

His eyes are following the line of shops over his shoulder, seemingly focused on whatever they have to offer. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that hang from his hips and slouch against his sneakers. His plain black t-shirt hugs his arms and chest, but falls a little looser around his middle. To complete his look, he has a beat up black baseball cap atop his head. It pushes down his curls, framing his neck with soft brown coils. Even from this distance, you can see that his hair is much longer and healthier than when you saw him last.

The first thing you feel when you see him is immense exhilaration. Never were you expecting to see him again. After sending him his print and a postcard, there had been little in the way of communication. A few weeks after sending the package, you received a follow request from him on Instagram. Battling yourself for all of two seconds, you accepted it and then accidentally began stalking his page. He had posted a story only a couple minutes before requesting to follow you. Opening the story, you had found your photo of him tacked up on a wall in his home.

“My good side. Or so I’ve been told.”

The caption on the story had made you laugh. Staring at your phone, grinning like a fool, all for a boy a thousand miles and a different destiny away.

Following each other had been the only movement on either front. For a few weeks, you’d pull up his DM and write out message after message. Not one was ever sent. There was no reason for you to reach out to him. Plus, you didn’t know if he even wanted to hear from you. Following you on Instagram is a far cry from being cool with what happened between you half a year ago.

The night you spent together, though it was cut short, still haunts you and holds you.

You had been somewhat keeping up with this season of Formula One just to have a way to stay connected to him in a way. Even if you couldn’t see him or speak with him, at least you could watch from a distance. Every time you’ve tried to stop, tried to forget him, you’ve been unsuccessful. All of your tactics that you’ve been practicing your whole life haven’t been able to eradicate Lando from your system. He’s a bad habit that you can’t break.

You want him in a way that you’ve never wanted anything before. Slowly, you’re creeping to the edge of your own rules, wondering what fate looks like on the other side.

But, reality comes crashing in when his eyes lazily flick up to yours and the elation that was just coursing through your bloodstream turns icy cold. Terror seizes your chest in an iron grip. You can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t even run.

For a moment you both stand still, completely frozen in time while the world continues on without you. People rush in and out of view, obscuring your vision in millisecond intervals. Everytime you lose sight of him, you wonder if he’ll actually be there.

He is. He’s really there.

And now he’s walking toward you.

A million questions rush through your head in a panic. Is he still upset at you? What is he going to say? Will you be able to say goodbye again?

Caught in the spinning of your own thoughts, you miss him drawing closer and closer with a stupid grin splitting his face. When you finally snap back into reality, he’s standing right in front of you.

His arms wrap around your waist, hoisting you into the best hug you’ve ever experienced. Hands down. With his touch, every single thought, anxiety, and question evaporate. There’s nothing in this world except for the way his hands hold your waist and his arms flex against your back.

Dropping your bag from your shoulder, you can’t help but toss your arms around his neck, hugging him right back. Smiling wildly, you push your forehead into his shoulder. Your nose fills with the scent of him, sending you reeling all the way back to six months ago when you saw him last.

While you’re in his arms, it feels as though no time has passed. It’s simply the day after you met, both of you ready for your next adventure together.

Together.

The word feels odd to you. It’s so unused in your life. You’ve always been alone. Growing up in the foster care system, you never stayed with someone long enough to use the word ‘together.’ So, there’s never been a desire in you to ever experience ‘together’ with someone. Until now.

“Hi,” Lando says warmly. You can hear the smile in his voice. A rush of heat paints your cheeks red as you pull away from him. As much as you want to keep your hands on him, you drop your hands from his neck and take a small step back. He lets his hands slip away from your waist, your body suddenly cold from the lack of his touch.

“Hi,” you respond, unable to remove the smile on your lips.

For a couple of seconds you both stand in awe of each other. He’s grown so much, not that you didn’t already know that. His Instagram is regularly updated for race weekends and things in between, so you’ve watched him grow over the last six months. However, nothing compares to seeing him in person. The shitty part is that he looks so damn good. How are you supposed to say goodbye to that face, that smile, again?

“I can’t believe this,” Lando says while adjusting his cap that was thrown askew by the brute force of your embrace. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you say while watching his hands go about their work. “How are you?”

“Alright,” he says while nodding. “But great now. It’s been ages. What are you doing in London?”

Nerves buzz in your chest and fingertips. It almost sounds like he’s missed you. You’ve missed him. You’ve never missed anything the way that you miss him.

“I’m working on a story,” you say breathlessly. “About Camden.”

His face lights up as you tell him about your time in London so far. He seems excited when you tell him that you’re going to be here for a while and are looking forward to doing a little more sightseeing when you can. His eyes are wide and bright as he listens to you. Every once in a while you get caught stumbling over your words because you got lost in the curve of his jaw, or the smattering of freckles on his face, or by those damn eyes.

Unable to keep talking coherently, you ask him what he’s doing in London. He tells you that he’s on summer holiday and spending a little time with family. He flew into London this morning and came to do some gift shopping for his parents before driving to Bristol.

He’s standing so close to you that you could reach out with little effort and take his hand in yours. The memory of his hand ghosts along your fingers, urging you to just reach out.

But for all of your desires, you have to hold fast to what you know to be true. This is temporary. Everything between you and Lando will pass because it always does. These feelings only feel this full and vivid because he’s standing right in front of you. This is a chance meeting that should never have happened. It only makes things more complicated.

“What are you doing right now?” Lando asks suddenly, breaking you away from planning an exit strategy. Your heart sinks to your toes.

“I–well–” You’re floundering. You never flounder. How is this the time that you can’t come up with some witty response or a quick out?

“Would you like to grab lunch? Maybe do a little catching up?” he presses. There’s this look on his face that makes you die a little. His eyes are so bright, lit up by the softest of smiles on his face. He looks perfectly at peace in your presence. There’s a happiness that exudes from his aura, taking you captive in its warm arms.

“Yes.” It comes out in a whisper. You’re barely aware that you actually said it aloud. The answer fell from deep within your heart, spilling out because it had to. You’d like nothing more than to sit across a table from Lando and talk with him until the world comes to an end.

Immediately, you regret your answer. Agreeing to this means spending time with him and reopening the doors you’ve been struggling to keep shut. What you should be doing is locking those doors and throwing away the key. You should be doing everything in your power to do what you do best: to run. The urge is there, pulling you away from Lando and the fate that could be. The familiar safety of running away calls to you.

But it’s counteracted by the intense desire to stay.

For the second time in your entire life and for the same reason both times, you’re split in two. War rages inside you; mind versus heart; logic versus feeling; safety versus adventure.

Lando reaches over, snapping up your backpack and hauling it over his shoulder. He sends you a wink, which you roll your eyes at.

“Follow me,” he says while tilting his head back towards the food walkway. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth to avoid smiling like a fool, you nod your head and fall in step with him.

Together you waltz along in front of the shops. Lando is looking down a little ways, obviously searching out a particular shop. You can’t help but be grateful that you didn’t have to choose which place to eat at. You probably would have spent the rest of the day hopping from spot to spot, tasting a little bit of everything.

After a short walk, Lando stops the two of you in front of a small stall. With a smile on his face, he explains what the shop serves. He obviously loves the place and can’t stop rambling on about it while you stand in line. Honestly, you only hear half of what he’s saying. You’re too busy watching the way his mouth moves and how his eyes dart around and the way he moves his hands while he speaks.

“So, what are you going to get?” he asks. You’d blanked out when he was explaining the menu to you.

“Just whatever you’re getting. I trust your judgment,” you say while shrugging, trying to be as normal as possible. You’d rather him not know that you’ve been ogling him this whole time. It doesn’t bode well for your attempts to get over him.

“You do?” he asks with a scoff. You laugh then, remembering the ice cream incident from six months ago. His choice was less than stellar, so why would it be different now? Maybe you should reconsider your options.

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “But I’m giving you a chance at redemption.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but he’s swiftly cut off by the woman behind the counter calling the next customer. Lando walks up in front of you and orders for the both of you. He pays the tender before circling back to you.

“No going back now,” he says while handing you a cup of ice water. Shaking your head at him, you pluck the water from his hand gratefully.

“What do I owe you?” you ask while reaching for your wallet.

“Nothing,” he says with a smirk. You glare up at him, trying to fry that smug look off his face. The opposite happens, his smirk growing into a grin.

“I think I’ve got it covered,” he says, reminding you that he’s a millionaire with just six words. What a snob.

“Fine,” you say while stuffing your wallet back into your pocket. “Just trying to have manners. Ever heard of them?”

His jaw drops and his eyes narrow in a look of disbelief. He’s carrying your bag and paying for your food. He’s actually being quite the gentleman, but you still need to bust his chops a little. The smug idiot deserves it, just a little bit. Behind your amused look, there’s an affection that scares you.

Standing side by side, you wait for your food while making small talk. It shocks you how easy conversation flows between the two of you. Nothing has ever been this perfectly natural for you. It just feels right to be by his side while talking about simple nothings.

Just as your hunger starts to crest into annoyance, Lando’s number is called. Excusing himself, he jogs over and grabs the two boxes from the counter. The smell hits you before he even arrives back at your side. It takes everything in you not to rip the paper to-go box from his hands and devour the food right there. Instead, Lando leads you both over to an empty picnic table.

Lando plops down onto the bench, setting both boxes in front of him. For a moment, you think about rounding the table to sit across from him. It would put more distance between the two of you, a safety cushion of sorts.

You sit right next to him.

Smiling smally, he slides your food in front of you. With a needy sigh, you pop open the box and look at the meal in front of you. It’s chicken strips and fries. Raising your eyes to the sky, you begin to pray to the powers-that-be to keep you from laughing in his face.

“What?” Lando says through a mouth full of fries when he catches you barely holding back your laugh.

“I was wrong when I called you geriatric last December. I know now that you’re actually a child.” you strain to say. Lando simply cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Hater,” he says while popping off the lid to his dipping sauce. “Would a child eat chili mayo?”

Smiling wildly, you watch as he dunks his chicken strip into the mayo. After taking a bite of it, he has a little mayo on the corner of his mouth, not doing anything to negate the child accusations.

Instead of teasing him anymore, you dive into your own meal. You have to hand it to Lando because these are the best chicken strips you’ve ever had. You don’t tell him that, though. No need to inflate his ego anymore than it already is.

The two of you eat like you haven’t eaten in years. He polishes off the whole box before you and waits for you to finish.

“Stop watching, you creep,” you say while finishing off the end of your fries.

“I’m not watching you,” he lies. “I’m wondering if you’re going to have that last piece of chicken.”

Rolling your eyes, you toss it into his box. With a cheeky smile, he snatches it up and pops it into his mouth.

After you’ve both disposed of your trash, you begin taking a lazy walk around the market. There’s an unsaid agreement hanging between you to not acknowledge the fact that you’d only agreed to lunch together, not whatever this is.

“What are you doing for the rest of the day?” Lando asks while watching the shops as you pass them by. A dozen different excuses jump to the surface of why you can’t stay with him for the rest of the day. Shame fills you as you realize that your first instinct to a simple question is to get out of it. For someone who’s living is asking questions and getting answers, you’re horrible at being questioned.

There’s yet again the choice that you were poised with all those months ago. With Lando standing in front of you, do you do the right thing and say goodbye or do you say to hell with your rules and reach out.

You’ve already tried endlessly to forget him. Maybe you just need to get him out of your system. At least that’s how you justify your decision.

“Not much,” you answer honestly. All you were going to do today was do a little more exploring before returning to your home for the next few days to iron out your story.

Lando turns to you with a surprised look gracing his features. There’s something else there too, something that surprises you. There’s hope in the way his lips arch upwards and in the tilt of his head.

“What?” you say in response to the face he pulled, turning your eyes from him to the scenery around you. Looking at him like this has your stomach in knots for so many reasons.

“Nothing,” He says while shaking his head. He sounds so pleased it makes your chest ache.

“If you’re not busy, I can show you around a little,” Lando says distantly while turning to examine some jewelry sold by a nearby shop. His nonchalance is transparent, a false front put up to curb his enthusiasm. In a way, it puts you at ease. You’re both going to pretend that this is just some casual meet up between old friends. If you can’t make yourself run away, maybe you can keep yourself safe this way.

“Don’t you have to get to your parents’ house?” you ask, not wanting to impose on his plans. He shakes his head, telling you that he’ll just go a little later than planned.

“Alright,” you find yourself saying. Lando freezes, then finally turns around to face you.

“Alright?” he asks, making sure he heard you correctly.

“Where to first?”

—

For a while in the afternoon, you stroll around the market until Lando finds a present for his parents. Once he buys it and tucks it away into your bag, he tells you that it’s time to explore London.

He forces you onto one of those buses that has an open air seating area, informing you that it is the best way to see the streets of London. He tells you that when he was a kid, he and his friends used to come on these and mess about. You can’t help but imagine a small Lando running up and down the aisle, causing chaos with a gaggle of little boys while their parents watched on. Parts of him still hold onto that childlike joy and wonder, shining like sunspots through the man he’s becoming. He must have had a happy childhood. An ache that feels like envy pinches at your heart.

You can’t help but wonder who you would be if you grew up the way he did.

After riding around on the bus, he takes you to walk along the River Thames. Crowds of people go about their days around you while you and Lando create your own little world together. Every place that he points out will forever be a reminder of him. His words paint over the sights, coloring them a shade of him in your mind.

Once you get close to the London Bridge, the two of you walk up to the walkway’s railing that overlooks the river. Instinctively, you pull out your camera to snap a few shots. At first, you take a couple of just the bridge in all its glory. The clear summer sky is a beautiful backdrop to the brilliant bridge that watches over the busy river that flows under it.

Lando has his back to you, his head turned toward the bridge. He’s mumbling something about the ships that skim across the surface of the river. But your attention is turned toward focusing him into the frame. His brown curls blow softly in the wind. The shirt he’s wearing fills and flutters with the river’s breeze. He looks perfect as he leans up against the railing, his arms rested against the top and his hands loosely folded together. The photo you take feels so intimate. For all the business and life going on, the eye is completely drawn to him. He’s captivating.

“Lando,” you whisper, wanting to get his attention while your camera is still raised to your eye.

Turning around, his face is caught in a look that you’re eternally grateful you caught on camera. There’s the hint of a smile on his lips, his eyes are wide, and his eyebrows are drawn up. He’s ready to answer any question you have, ready to hear anything you have to say. It’s a look straight from a movie scene. The look on his face changes swiftly from pleased to surprised when he sees the camera pointed at him.

“What are you doing?” he asks, a laugh forcing his face into a proper smile.

“Taking pictures,” you answer matter-of-factly.

Rolling his eyes, he begins to make faces at the camera. Without missing a beat, you keep snapping photo after photo of him. After a minute or so, you turn the camera off and drop it back down to your side. Lando watches you carefully, his eyes tracking your every movement. The way he’s staring at you makes you feel exposed and analyzed. Distantly, you think you should be scared of his eyes on you this way. But that’s a problem for another time.

The rest of the day passes easily. Lando brings you to some of his favorite spots around the city. He tells you stories; you listen carefully, trying your best to learn everything you can about him. You can’t help but feel like you’ve known him for a hundred years. The ease at which you speak, the natural way you understand each other's ques and mannerisms, it all feels instinctual. And yet, there’s still that layer of nervous excitement that lights you on fire. Every time your hands brush as you walk or you catch eyes lingering on each other, there’s an electricity that shoots through your heart.

Lando brings you to a place to grab a bite to eat for supper. As you sit together for another meal, you find yourselves arguing lightheartedly about the stupidest things. All things aside, you realize you haven’t had a friend like this in so long. When you began rejecting relationships with people, it had been a hard adjustment. But over the years, you’d grown so used to being alone that you forgot how lonely you were. Sitting across from Lando, listening to him laugh with you and tease you, it dawns on you just how lonely you’ve been.

By the time you’re done eating, the sun is starting to sink into the horizon. Golden hues are splattered across the sky, painting the city in orange. Lando promised one more sight that would put all the others to shame. Apparently Big Ben is highlighted by the setting sun and is a must see while in London.

With ice cream cones in hand, he hauls you quickly down the street towards the clock tower. Clouds create ombre lines in the sky, bringing the old clock to life. It’s a sight like none other. Big Ben stands like an ancient soldier keeping watch over his city by harnessing the light and fire of the sun.

Wordlessly, you take a photo of the scene in front of you, but only one. Turning your camera off and holding it loosely at your side, you just take in the view. It’s perfect. Everything about today has been perfect. You haven’t been this happy in a long time.

Lando looms right next to you, his presence warm and full. A hand ghosts over yours, just the fleeting touches of fingers against your skin. Breathing suddenly becomes difficult, your lungs laboring to take in any oxygen. You don’t move a muscle, afraid that he’ll admit that it was an accident or worse.

But it happens again. One of his hands reaches towards your’s, plucking the camera from it. Then his other hand slides into your now empty one. Instantly, the sky isn’t the only thing on fire. Warmth envelops your body, everything stemming from where your hand fits in his.

Looking over to him, you watch as he slings the strap of your camera around his neck. He looks over to you, a small smile on his face. As your eyes scan over his tanned features, you catch a small bit of ice cream caught at the corner of his mouth. An amused smile crosses over your face. He’s really never beating those child accusations.

“What?” he says while his face twists from peaceful to concerned.

“Nothing you just have some-” You say while you instinctively reach to wipe his mouth with your thumb. As you make contact, you realize what you’re doing. But it’s too late. You’re close enough now that you can feel his breath on your face. Inches separate you, mere inches.

Slowly, you finish the job you set out to do and wipe the corner of his mouth with your thumb. Hooded eyes greet yours when you dare to look at him.

“Ice cream,” you finish your earlier statement as your hand lingers against his face. Stubble rubs against your fingers, but his skin is soft and warm under it.

There’s maybe a half a second between you trying to pull your hand away and his coming up to cup your jaw. His thumb props up your chin while his fingers press into the back of your neck. You’re barely able to suck in a breath before his lips are on yours. Sinking into him immediately, you kiss him back with matched passion. He feels divine pressed against you. Fire licks at your body, turning you molten in his grip.

For the first time possibly ever, you feel confident that where you stand is exactly where you want to be. Reaching out to him, you grab his neck with both hands to pull him closer.

The kiss is damning, his lips drawing you closer and closer. Letting go is not an option, the end of this isn’t even a thought in your mind. Everything you know is this kiss. The rest of the world has faded away; your past has faded into an obsolete flash. While his hands are on you, there’s hope. While your fingers press into his skin, there’s a future.

His hands start to drift, needing to feel more of you. With gentle but firm fingers, he explores your body. One of his hands comes to rest on your waist while the other splays out against your lower back, encouraging you to arch into him. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, causing you to gasp.

The momentary severing of your connection allows you to breathe for a second. Then your name falls from Lando’s lips in a whisper like honey and you’re submerged once again. Dusk wraps around you while you kiss like the world is ending.

Six months have been spent dreaming of moments like this. Lando has plagued you every day and every night for months. The steady ache that you thought would fade has just been set to rest and replaced with a roaring fire. Down to the very marrow of your bones you feel his kiss. You’re insatiable, needing more of him.

Neither of you know how long you’ve been standing there when you finally pull apart. Lando doesn’t give any sign that he’s removing his hands from you. Instead, he just holds you close while his head drops between your collar and jaw. A jolt runs down your spine when you feel him placing the gentlest of kisses up your neck.

“Thank you,” he says while pulling away to look you in the eyes. Reeling back a little, it strikes you as odd that that’s what he’s decided to say after you’ve just experienced the best make out of your entire life. Your reaction doesn’t phase Lando, of course. He just smiles down at you like he knows something you don’t.

“For the photo and the postcard,” he finishes, putting your shock to rest. A baffled laugh rises from your chest and you let your forehead fall against his chest. Laughing with you, he adjusts his arms around waist, pulling you tight against him.

“I can’t believe you’re bringing that up right now.” you laugh into his chest, dumbfounded that he was even thinking about it.

“Why? This is the perfect time to bring it up,” he defends. You pull back in his arms to look at him and give him a confused frown.

“I wanted to wait until I saw you in person so I could thank you properly. Now I have,” he says smugly as if this was his plan all along. Not only had he been thinking about and scheming this all day, he’d been waiting for months to do it. Chills cascade over your skin as you let the weight of that sink in. Maybe he missed you as much as you missed him. It’s an insane thought because you should never have felt that way after meeting him once. Rarely over the last six months have you let yourself hope that he felt the same way. Maybe you should have had a little faith.

But to what end?

The familiar feeling of doubt begins to creep in, but you refuse to ruin one of the best moments you’ve ever experienced. Even if you’ll pay for it later, you’re going to do your best to preserve whatever just passed between you and Lando.

“That’s so cheesy,” you find yourself laughing. Lando squeezes your sides, making you squeal and press into his chest.

“I think you meant ‘romantic,’” he corrects, emulating the conversation that you shared months ago. It makes you smile.

“Maybe I did,” you concede softly. Raising yourself up off his chest, you lean in a press the barest of kisses to his soft lips. He accepts your lips on his with equal tenderness.

Pulling away for the second time, you press your hands flat against his chest to push away from him. He lets you go, but it takes a few seconds. After you’re free from the circle of his arms, you pull one of his hands into yours and begin walking into the night.

The dying light gives way into a sultry purple and navy blue. The air flits over the water and through the trees on a gentle breeze. With Lando’s hand in yours and your lips still tingling from his kiss, you can chalk this up to the perfect night.

“Can I take a few pictures?” Lando asks as he pulls you in front of him, your camera held in his other hand. You’d completely forgotten that he had taken your camera from you.

“Sure,” you say while nodding. “Do you know how?”

“Yeah,” He scoffs smugly. “Point and click. Easy as that.”

Blinking at him, you’re slightly in awe of his absolute blind confidence. A man really just believes whatever he wants, doesn’t he.

“Alright,” you say while dropping his hand. “Take a few for me.”

Confidently, he smiles at you and brings the camera to his eye. Then pulls it away with a frown on his face.

“Lens cap,” you tell him while pointing to the end of the camera. His eyes flick to you while his confidence falters for just a second. Once he has the cap removed, he brings the camera back up to his eye. He’s obviously a little more pleased when he can actually see his surroundings through the viewfinder.

Silently, you watch as he struts about taking pictures of this and that. Watching on, you can’t help the smile that spreads onto your face. He’s like a kid in a candy store. Once something catches his eye, he walks over to it and spends minutes on making sure it’s just how he wants it.

While he gallivants about with your camera, you have a moment to really think about everything that’s happened today. Playing it over in your head, it seems like a movie or as if it wasn’t really happening to you. The person you are with Lando seems so different to the person that you know yourself to be. It’s like the person that you are when you’re around him is this fuller version of yourself. Your broken pieces seem to draw together, finally ready to heal. There’s a joy that you’ve never known when your hand is in his. It feels right; it feels real.

And in the nighttime streets of London, you feel a star of hope being born in your chest. And you hold it tight. Maybe there are some things that don’t have to be temporary. Running is all you’ve ever known. Once a place doesn’t fit your needs or desires, you run away to the next place. But what if there’s somewhere, or someone, out there that will always fit your needs and desires. What if it wasn’t chance that brought together again two people whose paths should never have crossed?

What if you didn’t have to run?

“How do you get them to come up on the screen?” Lando says while fast walking over to you and pulling you from your train of thought. When he reaches you, you pull the camera from his hands. He rounds behind you, placing his chin on your shoulder and his hands around your stomach. Pressing the play button, you bring the pictures onto the display screen. It starts with yours from the beginning of the day. The bright morning shot of the Camden Market sign seems like a lifetime ago.

You drag the wheel dial back, sending you to the last picture taken. It’s completely dark.

“What?” Lando mumbles into your shoulder, his body going rigid against you. You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

Slowly, you spin the dial backward to keep browsing through his pictures. Nearly every single one is too dark to make out.

Obviously frustrated, Lando huffs and presses his forehead into your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh at his display of exasperation. His lesson has been well learned.

“I don’t get it,” he says while you turn in his arms. He’s pouty now, his face pinched into a frown.

“Did you adjust the aperture, the ISO, and the shutter speed?” you ask pointedly. He doesn’t give you the dignity of a response. Instead, he pulls his lips into a line and squints his eyes at you. He’s not taking any of your bull shit. Deciding it's your turn to play the smug jerk, you smirk at him.

“Point and click, right?” you tease while slinging the camera around your neck. You reach into Lando’s front pocket while looking him in the eyes to fish out your lens cap. His eyes go wide as your hand slides in and out of his pocket. Tilting your head to the side, you watch as he sucks in a deep breath. You’ve absolutely flustered him, something you don’t think often happens.

“Huh?” he mumbles, obviously not catching what you had said earlier.

“I can give you a lesson on the bus ride to my place if you’d like,” you say with an innocent smile. Lando blinks away his shock and then accepts your offer.

Walking side by side, you make your way to the bus stop. Hopping on the bus to where your house is, Lando leads you to a row and lets you have the window seat.

While the bus teeters along, you give Lando a brief lesson on camera basics. He nods along, his eyes following your fingers as they dance along the camera. He seems genuinely interested in what you have to say. A warm feeling flares in your chest that he cares about what you do enough to learn about it.

Too soon, the bus arrives at your stop. Together, you get off the bus and walk towards the town house you’re staying in. Lando has your hand clasped in his while he asks you question after question about cameras. You do your best to answer him, a smile constant on your face.

“This is me,” you sigh quietly while stopping in front of the gate of the house. He stops too, turning to stand in front of you. There’s a question poised on your lips that you already know the answer to were you to ask it. Once more the choice to reach out looms in front of you.

“How long are you in London for exactly?” Lando asks. He hadn’t asked about it all day. You’ve been wondering when it was going to come up and it finally has.

“Just the next few days,” you tell him. He nods along with your words.

“After that?” he presses while fiddling with your fingers.

“Back to Monaco for a while until I get a new assignment. Probably only a few days,” you admit. “What about you?”

“I’m going on vacation with my family to Bali for a week and then with some friends to Australia the next week. Then I’ll be in Woking for work,” he says, his eyes not lifting to find yours. The realization hits you like a dump truck.

“Then the season starts again,” you say, your voice strained.

“And you’ll be on assignment,” he shoots back, his voice the same as yours.

All the hope that’s been accumulating throughout your time with Lando burns to ash in a matter of mere seconds. The guiding star that flared to life just hours ago, collapses in on itself, creating a black hole inside of you. All joy is sucked away, leaving you cold and alone. Where hope once was, despair takes its place.

It’s nearly laughable that you ever thought you wouldn’t have to say goodbye. Even when you tried not to run, the universe did it for you. Thinking that fate brought you together was a child’s wish. It’s fate that’s tearing you apart. There can be no other way for you, running away is the only option. Saying goodbye will always be your fate, your curse.

“I’ll come to Monaco,” Lando says suddenly, his hands gripping yours. His eyes are like fire when you look into them. His face is stormy, angry even. You know the look well. He’s fighting. He’s a fighter.

You remember when you were a fighter.

“Alright,” you choke out, feeling utterly broken. Pulling you close, he takes your lips with his own. You can feel his promise in his kiss, his hope to see you again. It shatters you further. Tears well in your eyes, but you don’t allow them to fall. This pain is what you bargained for and now you’re paying in full. But you kiss him, you kiss him with everything you have because you know it will be the last.

Two fated times your paths crossed.

And two times you were ripped apart by that same fate.

When he pulls away, you can’t look him in the eye. He holds you close while he whispers into your ear.

“I’ll see you in Monaco.” His voice is stern and sure. All you do is nod into his chest.

When he walks away, he doesn’t say goodbye. He believes that this isn’t one. You know better.

This time, you don’t look over your shoulder to watch him leave.

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